


The Song of the Wind, The Voice of Fire

by Lustworthy



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Book 3: A Court of Wings and Ruin, Book 4: A Court of Silver Flames, Drunken Flirting, Elain working through her trauma and figuring out if she even wants a bat boy or fire lord, Elains story, Elucien - Freeform, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, Eventual Sex, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Flushed Romance | Matesprits, Friends to Lovers, Friendship / Flirting / Thinking of You Fest, Healing, Healing after the cauldron, Love Triangles, Lust at First Sight, M/M, Male-Female Friendship, Mates, Other, POV Azriel (ACoTaR), POV Elain Archeron, POV Lucien (ACoTaR), Pining, Post-Book 2: A Court of Mist and Fury, Post-Book 3.5: A Court of Frost and Starlight, Psychological Trauma, Slow Burn, Spoilers, Spoilers for Book 3.5: A Court of Frost and Starlight, Spoilers for Book 4: A Court of Silver Flames, The Night Court, Trying to write everyone true to character, Unrequited Love, Velaris (ACoTaR), about 30 chapters planned so far, fleshing out characters, haven't decided who she ends up with. Kinda just want elain to learn to be her own person again tbh, hopefully characters and their relationships are like the book, spoilers for entire series1
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-15 13:47:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 21,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29190288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lustworthy/pseuds/Lustworthy
Summary: She had flowers. That was all it seemed she had left. Father was gone- she had lost Graysen- everything about the life she had known had gone up in smoke the minute they had been taken. The minute she had gone under in that damned cauldron.  Feyre had her own life. She fit right in here. And Nesta. Nesta, who had been through just as much as her but still came out different.No, Elain was nothing like her sisters. So there would be no way of recovering from those things as they once had. The others seemed to have it all figured out. Azriel, Mor, Cassian- they belonged here but not she.And Lucien...what was she expected to do with him? Well...She knew what she was expected to do with him, but did she want that?
Relationships: Azriel/Morrigan (ACoTaR), Elain Archeron & Feyre Archeron & Nesta Archeron, Elain Archeron & Lucien Vanserra, Elain Archeron/Azriel, Elain Archeron/Graysen, Feyre Archeron/Rhysand, Nesta Archeron/Cassian
Comments: 14
Kudos: 54





	1. Duty and Trepidation

**Author's Note:**

> Update: At least 1 new chapter weekly!
> 
> This is my first work in a while- dear god please don't read my old stuff! I've taken so many screen/play/ writing classes since then I'm begging you not to hold me accountable!  
> I'm working on a book and I needed practice on my style so please, please feel free to post feedback on it. The whole reason I wanted to get back into fanfic writing again (minus my newly discovered love for ACOTAR, yes I've read all of them, please don't worry though obviously there will probably be canon divergence) is to get some practice on story structure and build a routine around it.  
> I don't have an over-all plan for the length of this fic yet. It's just to satisfy mine and your need for some good Elucien/ Elriel content.
> 
> Really hope you enjoy!

She had flowers. That was all it seemed she had left. Father was gone- she had lost Graysen- everything about the life she had known had gone up in smoke the minute they had been taken. The minute she had gone under in that damned cauldron. Feyre had her own life. Had Rhysand and a title. Feyre was High Lady. Of course, she fit right in here. And Nesta. Nesta, who had been through just as much as her but still came out different. Nesta, who was a different kind of breed. Nesta, who was special, had been gifted something by the cauldron while Elain had only almost drowned.

No, Elain was nothing like her sisters. So there would be no way of recovering from those things as they once had. The others seemed to all have it figured out. Azriel, Mor, Cassian- they all belonged here, had learned ways to cope with the trauma, the loss, but not she.

And Lucien. Cauldron boil her, as her sister always said...what was she expected to do with him? Well...She knew what she was expected to do with him but, did she want that? This pull. She felt it- yes. A few times since he had tried. When he had tugged what seemed like an invisible string from her heart to his. All while they had been so closely watched by Nesta. That constant strand of- something- that always seemed to hang in the air between them. Even when he had been on the continent she had felt that stream of it between them. That wanting. A gentle pull, but still a pull towards him, her 'mate'.

Mate. "She is no such thing." Nesta had hissed the minute he had announced it. Mate. Feyre had explained what it meant when she asked but the definition still wasn't clear in her mind. Were they to have something similar to what her sister had with Rhysand? What was so obviously, so dangerously forming between Nesta and Cassian? There had been talks of bonds and talk of choice. That Lucien would accept whatever decision she came to. If she sent him away he would obey. Though- it was beginning to seem she didn't even have to ask him to leave. He had been in the mortal lands for a while now. 

If she chose to have him it would only be a matter of time before the bond would snap into place on her end as well. The concept of that absolutely terrified her. The bond that already begged to tug her towards the redheaded male she hardly knew yet so clearly already held a fondness for her. What would the bond feel like if it snapped into place on her end? Would she be overwhelmed with an unconquerable love for the stranger? Would it be love? 

Plenty of fae had described it with such reverence, that it was a dream they all shared- to one day find their mate. The excitement they had all expressed; how giddy all fae were at the prospect of being surprised by the snapping into place of their own mating bonds with the match they always hoped it would be- or the pleasant surprise of a chance encounter with a perfect stranger.

That's what Lucien was, really. Just a stranger. A friend of Feyre's from a human lifetime ago. What Elain held for Graysen had been love. Deep unending love. But not unconquerable in the end.

She wasn't afraid of Lucien exactly. She believed he wouldn't try to hurt her. Nesta made sure of that but she knew even without her she'd be safe. Nesta was just a much-needed buffer for other reasons. But it was too bad she couldn't be a buffer for the bond.

Kneading. That's what she was supposed to have been doing. Elain stared down at the limp dough that lay between her hands, gently pushing it through her fingers. Her cheeks burned as she felt Nuala's eyes on her from across the counter. Silently observing as she formed her own dough into the small shapes they would later use to make the pastries. No words were spoken but Elain could sense the shadowy handmaiden's concern. It had been a long time since she had zoned-out like this. In the past, it had been for months.

Elain shook her head lightly, sending a light mist of the flour she always accidentally wiped on her cheeks into the air.

"Perhaps you should go for a turn in the gardens, Lady? I can finish up here." She cast her friend and maid a grateful look who simply nodded in return. The only acknowledgment that something was wrong. Dusting off her hands and removing her apron Elain made for the garden. She knew she could trust Nuala and Cerridwen not to go running to Feyre at the first change in her condition anymore. Even if she couldn't, the shadow spies reported to Azriel first and Elain knew undoubtedly she could trust him. 

The others had expected her to not fully understand the significance of Azriel loaning her Truth-teller all those months ago but Elain knew full well what it had meant to him- to her. The memory of the weight of that blade in her hands when she-

Spring was in full bloom on the other side of the stained glass doors as Elain swept them open. Her memory of that day on the battlefield causing her to shove them open a little too roughly. They rattled in their hinges. She made sure to shut them behind her gently. Pride swelled ever so slightly in her chest as she beheld the garden. Her garden as the others had deemed to call it.

The snow had finally melted. The perennials she had planted at the end of last summer were finally in full bloom. She studied the fat peonies she had planted by the iron table and chairs, just under the windows. Iron. Like her engagement ring. Her hand tightened involuntarily around one of the healthy buds as she studied it. The ring glinting in the sunshine. All this time she had worn it. Hadn't thought not to. What else would she have done with it- this ring- this only sign of her life back home. Of the human love, she had once had. The only proof that someone had loved her- not because it was fated or because of some mating bond. They had just loved her as is.

She found herself slumping into one of the chairs. Closing her eyes and tilting her face up to the sun. The warmth enveloped her, orange light seeping through her thick lashes and she breathed in the sweet-scented floral air. Was it this warm and beautiful back in her human home? She felt the pressure in her chest. Above her heart. As if it might be pulled right out from her chest. But it stopped. As if anchored- as if Elain's heart were tethered to another- and the rope between them was growing taunt and-

The door opened. She didn't need to open her eyes to know who it was. In her mind's eye she could already see him. Feel him. There he was. Hair braided behind him unlike how she had ever seen it before- not that Elain had a very clear memory of Lucien. The breath left in her lungs rushed from her lips in a squeak. She heard his footsteps behind her as he approached, tentatively, clearly assessing if Nesta was nearby.

She wasn't. Cassian had finally, finally coax her into training with him at the House of Wind. Elain didn't know when they'd be back. But Lucien wasn't supposed to have come back either.

She schooled her breathing. Opening her eyes slowly she turned in the chair to meet his gaze. Lucien looked positively spooked.

"You're here," She knew she could count on one hand all thing times they'd spoken. She'd barely ever acknowledged him- ever looked at him and now here they were, in the garden. Alone.

"I-I am." His hand shot to the back of his neck. Blocking a weak point. A defensive gesture if Azriel had taught her right- no. It was nervousness in his expression. His cheeks were pink- that russet eye refusing to look anywhere but at her. The metal one whirling around mechanically in a frenzie. "Elain, I can't do this anymore. I need an answer I tried to be patient but it's starting to drive me insane."

He kneaded his hands together impatiently. Frantic. He looked absolutely frantic.

An answer. What was she supposed to answer to that? Words lumped in her throat. She hadn't a clue which ones to select to form any sort of response. The clouds seemed to gather above- the sound of wings overhead. No!

Cassian's towering figure descended between them. Nesta stepping away from his arms with a look of pure rage. Cassian bent his knees to launch back into the sky but recoiled, sensing the sudden tension in the garden. Those massive membranous wings flared in another attempt to get his muscular body off the ground but one look from her sister had him folding them neatly behind him. A muscle feathering in his jaw the only indication of his annoyance. Nesta's back straightened as she positioned herself between the redheaded fae and her sister. Shoulders rolled back as she prepared herself for her famous, sharp-tongued attack.

Lucien froze, eye whirling frantically as he clearly scoured for an excuse- a defense- anything to aid him against the all-powerful Nesta who had just caught him alone, against her own orders and that of the Night Court's; with her little sister.

"I wanted to talk to him,' Elain breathed. Her calmness a surprise to even herself. She ignored the fact the for a moment, Nesta had had a look of utter shock plastered on her face. The mask had slipped for a moment before it was replaced by her usual one of icy calm. Everyone in all of Velaris it seemed, was watching, waiting to see what she would do next.

"Then talk," Nesta moved to sit in the chair beside Elain. Enough indication that the rest of this meeting would not go on unsupervised. Cassian thankfully remained though the look on his face told Elain it was more for Lucien's safety than out of any real support. Begrudgingly. Because if Elain had learned anything from watching the members of this court this past year, Lucien, was anything but a welcomed guest.


	2. Truth and Compromise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "How did training go?" If Elain was going to see Lucien get out of this meeting alive she was going to have to steer the conversation back into her favor. And that meant taking on the herculean task of putting Nesta in a good mood. Something Cassian's presence was notorious for undermining. And Nesta having spent the morning with him probably wouldn't be likely to crack a smile any time soon.
> 
> "You said you wanted to talk to him," Nesta reminded sharply. She hardly ever used that tone with Elain. But Lucien was here. That mask was in place as a warning for him. They wouldn't stand a chance.
> 
> "We weren't expecting you." Cassian nodded towards the other male. The only acknowledgment he'd given him since their arrival.
> 
> "Yes, I know," Lucien replied, testingly. He never seemed himself around these Night Court members. Around Feyre's family. Well, here family too...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just a bonus chapter to get things started. I might be uploading a few more unscheduled and then afterwards I'll be uploading on Wednesdays.
> 
> Feel free to leave some feedback if you like!

"How did training go?" If Elain was going to see Lucien get out of this meeting alive she was going to have to steer the conversation back into her favor. And that meant taking on the herculean task of putting Nesta in a good mood. Something Cassian's presence was notorious for undermining. And Nesta having spent the morning with him probably wouldn't be likely to crack a smile any time soon.

"You said you wanted to talk to him," Nesta reminded sharply. She hardly ever used that tone with Elain. But Lucien was here. That mask was in place as a warning for him. They wouldn't stand a chance.

"We weren't expecting you." Cassian nodded towards the other male. The only acknowledgment he'd given him since their arrival. The closest to a friendly greeting it seemed Lucien would ever get. 

"Yes, I know," Lucien replied, testingly. He never seemed himself around these Night Court members. Around Feyre's family. Well, her family too... "It just felt like I was long overdue for a visit." 

"Why? Getting a little blue from waiting so long?" Cassian snorted. He was clearly still cocky from whatever argument he thought he had just won with Nesta. But one look from the eldest Archeron and Cassian's snickering ceased. Elain could feel her face burning. "You seem well," he offered. As if regretting his tone.

"He can wait forever for all I care," Nesta flashed her teeth at the general. "All you mated males are all so dramatic. She doesn't owe him anything" A blow at every male in the family if Elain read it correctly. Nesta had managed to dismiss Lucien without so much as addressing him directly. 

"You sound a little jealous, Nesta. In need of someone to warm that bed of yours?" Cassian crooned as he sauntered towards her now, whatever threat Lucien could have provided completely forgotten.

"Don't fool yourself into thinking I'm so desperate any overgrown bat like you would do."She shot back. 

"But I'm sure one of us 'bats' would. Should I tell Azriel to come by your apartment tonight?"

Poor Azriel was off on a mission for Rhysand, thankfully immune to this brawl but Elain made a mental note to tell him all about this. Assuming she'd escape it alive.

The bickering was incessant. Childish. It seemed only Cassian and Nesta hadn't grown tired of it. She didn't know anymore if it was just a defensive tactic for both of them, so stubborn yet so alike, or if it was merely a diversion. Perhaps the two were on friendlier terms than they let on. Though from what she remembered of the mating bond she would have been able to smell it between them.

Scent. They all had scents now. More noticeable than perfumes. The scent of these people was different from anything Elain had known as a human. It was all so overwhelming, so specific. Every fae was different making every encounter all the more overwhelming for her. Had it been this bad for Feyre and Nesta as well? They hardly spoke of the differences their fae forms had to their human ones. Feyre had tried. Genuinely showing concern for them. Tenderly explaining the process of their new cycles. She had fought with Nesta to look after them during those cycles but the rift between her two sisters was still a great chasm they had yet to fill and the three of them had adopted a 'don't-ask-don't-tell" system shortly after. Nesta never questioned Feyre for more information on their new abilities so Elain was left to wonder if her own new experiences were normal.

All these scents. With every introduction came a new one. Feyre's lilac and pear, Rhysand's citrus, Azriel's pine, Cassian's, Mor - it was all too much.

Then there was her own...mate's scent. It wasn't stifling compared to the others but it always startled her when she'd breathe it in. Much like she could sense his presence through that thin sliver of a bond she could smell him too. But unlike the others, Elain found she could never put a name to that scent. Earthy, yes. It reminded her of the garden. The one she had tended in their cottage. But Lucien didn't smell like flowers either. It truly was impossible for her to pinpoint making it all the more jarring when she inhaled it.

She had tuned out the bickering. It never went on long. Most of the time it could hardly even counted as such. Cassian would poke and prod Nesta, in hopes of a reaction. Then Nesta would silence him without so much as raising her voice.

Elain rose without speaking and made for the door, a solution. An end to this trap they had found themselves in she realized. She had ghosted around for so long. In and out of rooms, barely noticing anything. They had let her because it was what she needed. Perhaps they would let her do it now. The world wasn't as overwhelming as it had initially been. The door snickered shut behind her, aided by the spring breeze. She let out a slow, shallow breath. A dark wind filled the room- and then Lucien was before her. She screamed and jumped back. 

There was a word for that. Elain couldn't remember it in the moment. The way he had moved in front of her within seconds as if it was nothing. She had experienced it with Feyre and Rhysand during the war...

"I'm sorry- I wasn't trying to-"

"I-It's fine. I just wasn't expecting it."

"Elain," her name from his mouth. His scent in her nose. That dammed tugging at her heart. She felt nothing for him yet her senses were completely betraying her, going wild over him. "I know I said I'd give you time. Well- I didn't say - but I've done that." A soft nod was her only acknowledgment. He had. In the beginning, he had been so desperate to see her but Feyre had been honest with him. Had seen that after everything there was something broken he couldn't fix. But Elain was healing now. She didn't need to be coddled...and perhaps Lucien sensed it. Or perhaps all the waiting had begun to truly drive him insane. Rhysand had hinted at it before Feyre had asked him to stop. Had mentioned that a scorned male, separated from his mate could be driven to madness. Something apparently leftover from an animalistic need for order, belonging.

She owed him absolutely nothing, she reminded herself. She could make that very clear to Lucien if he pushed.

"I suppose all I'm asking is that we talk about it. That we acknowledge...this." She felt a firm tug on the bond as if in emphasis. The bond that Lucien was probably equally all too aware of.

A lump was forming in her throat as she pondered his request. She had questions too. They could talk but...  
"In...In the human lands, it's considered improper for a lady to be seen alone with a gentleman if she is unwed." Lucien nodded gently. Calculating that statement.

"Then would it be alright if we could speak with a chaperone? A- a neutral chaperone?" The corners of his mouth tilted ever so slightly. A glimmer of the personality that must have laid dormant beneath. Kept at bay for the sake of his safety in an unknown court. A skill he must have learned and employed all too often trying to fit into places he didn't belong.

A chance to talk things over. That was all Lucien was asking for. And he hadn't really been given one yet. Not with Nesta prowling about. Not with any of Feyre's inner circle really. It was easy even for an outsider like Elain to sense the centuries of tension that hung in the air between Lucien and Feyre's devote, frightening friends.

"What did you do to her!" Nesta pried open the door, pure fury coating her features. Cassian was behind her. In no hurry to move into the house it seemed. He had known Lucien had winnowed in here with her. Known her scream had only been that of shock. And out of the corner of her eye, she saw it-a shadow slink further into the darkness, under a table. One that clearly must have belonged to Azriel. Even here they were keeping a close eye on her. The inner circle. How on earth would they find a neutral party? All just to talk.

"I'm fine. But-Amren!" Elain whispered. Unsure if that was even the fiend's name. She'd never uttered it before. "I want to talk to Amren". She spied the glimmer of a smirk on Lucien's face. That female fae...that...bound beast. Someone they both equally feared. She didn't seem bound by the trivial feelings and wishes of her friend but did as she pleased. Even with her friendship with Nesta, Elain knew Amren would ultimately be their best choice.

"What are you talking about," Nesta hissed. The simple arrival of a single redheaded male had launched their relationship into the adversarial one they hadn't assumed for ages. Not since they were destitute. It pained Elain, she realized. Nesta only wanted to protect her but all the same that tugging- that incessant tugging- the overwhelming of her senses- something had to be done about it and Nesta was not going to aid her in that situation.

"I'm going to talk to him, and I'd like Amren there when I do." That was as close to an order as Elain had ever given.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am planning for Nessian to be canon in this, just waiting to read ACOSF to see what the dynamic is like.


	3. Fear and Need

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blood pudding. That was what Feyre had recommended they bring Amren. An offering in exchange for her agreeing to be in the same room as Elain and Lucien. While they discussed the circumstances of their mating bond. She had mentioned it having a similar taste to another delicacy the fiend used to enjoy. Elain tried not to question it. The implications made the blood in her own veins run cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will probably be the last unscheduled update until Wednesday, I hope you enjoy!  
> Tried to include a little more sassy Lucien in this one as he comes out of his comfort zone a little bit.
> 
> I'm a little wary of villainizing Nesta and Feyre just because they're protective over Elain so I thought I'd build a little bit on their relationship in the next few chapters.

Blood pudding. That was what Feyre had recommended they bring Amren. An offering in exchange for her agreeing to be in the same room as Elain and Lucien while they discussed the circumstances of their mating bond. Feyre had mentioned it having a similar taste to another delicacy the fiend used to enjoy. Elain tried not to question it. The implications made her own blood in her veins run cold.

They had been made to wait a full day for the meeting. Lucien had been sent up to the House of Wind shortly after the incident in the garden, Elain hadn't seen him since. Though it had given her enough time to track down Sevenda, the owner of a restaurant the inner circle were regulars of and someone who specialized in Amren’s favorite confections before she had become high fae.

She traced the stitching on the pale pink hem of her skirts. The only sound was the ticking of a large grandfather clock on the other side of the living room. It seemed that all though things had the tendency to happen unpredictably fast in the Night Court there was still a protocol Elain was expected to follow. There were rules. Steps. Everything had to be relayed through Azriel and Cassian it seemed, and then they would inform Feyre and Rhysand. And that was only the system that had been approved by the one sister. Nesta, it seemed, had an entire list of people she refused to leave Elain alone. Azriel, Nuala, and Cerridwen had barely made it off that list.

Elain didn't resent her sisters. How could she after all those years- after all Feyre had done? She knew after the events of Hyburn Elain had required time to cope. A gentle hand to guide her. There was a time she couldn't even feed and clothe herself- Elain hadn't forgotten that. But she was better. Not fully healed but she was better now. And it seemed that Feyre and the others didn't quite understand that. She was capable of making her own decisions again, of being her own person.

The soft sounds of a cool dark wind filled the air. Feyre appeared before her. Elain watched as her sister released Lucien's arm, and moved to stand near the stone fireplace. She wore a set of her black fighting leathers. Dark circles were under her sister's eyes. The only tell-tale sign that the new High Lady of the Night Court had been working herself a little too hard, still mending things after the war. She and Rhysand had been tracking some horrifying creature the past few weeks. One that had evaded capture after a bargain. 

No one spoke and Elain had the feeling a not so pleasant exchange had occurred between the two prior to their arrival at the townhouse. She found herself feeling guilty for having pulled Feyre away from her duties to oversee what probably seemed like a trivial, budding courtship.

"Good morning," she offered. They each mumbled their replies. Lucien moved cautiously to sit on the couch across from the settee Elain occupied. Feyre would only remain until Amren arrived who, to Elain's surprise, had readily agreed when Azriel had spoken to her yesterday on Elain’s behalf. Azriel mentioned she seemed to have been intrigued by the situation. Elain recalled a rare shudder from the Shadow Singer as he had told her the news, describing the chaotic smile that had rippled across her features at the invitation to chaperone the couple.

Nesta on the other hand had taken far more convincing. She had refused when Elain initially asked. She had had to follow her sister back to her home on the other side of the Sidra. Even then it had taken hours to reason with the eldest Archeron. She had agreed to let Elain have half an hour with the Autumn Court lord, and only if there would be a debrief afterward. 

Silence. Is that all Elain was meant to endure in this court for the rest of her eternity? Silence while everyone tiptoed around her? Saying nothing because they feared they'd say the wrong thing to her?

"Feyre, will that do?" She pointed to the silver plate that sat on the coffee table before them. She watched as her high lady lifted the cover off the dish, winced at the smell of it, and nodded. Lucien's own complexion turned pale as he beheld the dark meat dish. 

Elain's ears pricked as she heard the sound of the front door opening followed by the tinkling of metal and delicate footsteps. Amren appeared in the doorway moments later. A set of massive diamond earrings hung from her ears, far too glamorous for the occasion, and late as ever. 

"Hello all," she flashed a too white grin around the room. 

"Hello...This is for you- as a thank you," Elain removed the cover from the dish. Her voice was surprisingly steady despite the fact she could feel her breakfast turning watery in her stomach as the small, deadly female approached her.

"Oh I always knew I liked you," she purred, accepting the plate and gleefully slinking into an armchair in the furthest corner of the room. I was a sight to inspire Elain's nightmares for weeks.

"I'll be back in half an hour then. Be good."Feyre tossed her braid over a shoulder. Concern and exhaustion painting her features as she looked around the room. And with that she was gone. Leaving them wondering who that command had been meant for.

Elain shut her eyes, trying her best to ignore the sloppy sounds as Amren began devouring the pudding in the corner of the room. Her delicate fae ears picking up every squelch and swallow that came from the deadly female. She shuddered. Forcing her attention back to the tea set Cerridwen had left out for them. Her hands trembled as she reached for the saucer, making the teacup clatter as she attempted to pull it towards the pot. 

A tan hand steadily took it from her. Lucien gracefully filled her cup and gently handed it back to her. Elain watched the amber liquid, not unlike the eye of the male before her. Tendrils of steam rose from the cup as they sat in the thick silence. Lucien did not tend to his own cup.

"Do you not like tea?" Elain sipped delicately from her own. The soft smells of apple and ginger splashed onto her tongue.

"Not particularly, no."

"Would you like something else?" Ever the host. The offer was second nature to her.

"No, thank you."

"Are you sure? It wouldn't be any trouble. Tell me what you'd like."

"Wine," he huffed a laugh. Yes, of course, wine. Because that was probably the only thing that could relieve the tension between them. "Do you like wine?"

"Not particularly," Elain coincided. If they were going to start sharing interests the things they had in common were quickly dwindling. "I suppose I've only ever really had it at parties. Balls. Do you enjoy parties?"

A muscled hand rose to thread through his scarlet hair, unbound today she observed. He loosened a breath. "I don't know. I never really thought about it."

"I used to plan them. We threw a ball for Feyre once." When she had been with that other male. When they all still had the privilege of being human, when life was simple. " I think I might like to do it again. I was told I was quite good at it." At trivial things like that. At being a well-bred, proper lady.

"I'm sure you were."

Was this what they were doomed to? Awkward, pointless small talk for eternity? Feeling each other out enough until one of them was willing to make a decision on their relationship? This was agony. If Lucien was going to hang back- to let her make a decision then she would take the plunge.

"I don't need...a mate right now," she started. Carefully. This all had to be said carefully if this male's sanity was apparently at stake. "But I'd like a friend."

"A friend?" This meeting had clearly gone differently in his own mind. Elain couldn't blame him for that. All fae had preconceived ideals over how things would go when they found their mates.

" For now, that's what I'm willing to be. Your friend. I'm not from Prythian. I could use a friend who knows it well." She absently fondled her ring as she spoke. Her last remaining tether to a love she'd never have. To the human world, she would never again belong to.”I have Nuala and Cerridwen, and Azriel, too. But I think you’d also be a very valuable friend to have.”

The silence slid between them like a heavy lock. Elain was thankful for the birds that chirped outside the window. Her only reprieve from the long seconds as Lucien considered her offer.

"I would very much like to be your friend, Elain Archeon."

The silence had gone on so long she jumped when he finally spoke. A slow nod from her. Why had she thought that this meeting today would ease anything between them? Even now, as Lucien extended a tan, callused hand towards her, as she clasped his fingers to initiate their new friendship in a smooth handshake, she could feel the streaks of sadness, pain, of hopefulness, and of longing through the bond.

“That’s quite bold of you, girl. You’re lucky. There’s plenty of high fae that aren’t nearly as considerate of whether their mate’s accept the bond or not.” Lucien jumped. He must have completely forgotten they weren’t alone- had been so wrapped on in Elain’s offer.

“I’m not scared,” Elain took a sip of tea and released Lucien's hand, ignoring the flutter of excitement that rippled through the bond.

“No, of course not. None of you girls are. But consider yourself lucky he’s not like his father.”

“Who is his father?”She cursed herself for remaining so ignorant of the politics of this new world. Things were going to change, she promised herself. This was the first step. Then asking Feyre questions she desperately needed answers to- then Elain would plan it all.

Amren snorted. Crumbs dotted her mouth. Her hands were stained from her meal, dirtying the long sharp nails at the end of each slender finger. 

“My father is high lord of the Autumn Court,” Lucien answered slowly, shifting in his chair. Elain racked her brain for a memory of Prythian geography. She knew little of his home or former home for that matter. Had never set foot in either. Lucien had defected, twice now. First from Autumn then to Spring, then to the Night Court.

“Will you be in Velaris long?”

“If you’ll allow me to, yes.”

Allow. He had stayed away. Had left a place where he felt like he truly fit in- had ruined his relationship with the Spring High Lord all for the hope of being around her and she had rejected him. A careful nod was her only answer.

“I thought your work in the garden was lovely.”

“Thank you, and thank you for the gloves.”

Lucien blinked once. Twice. The memory of his Starfall gift clicking into place. Gardening gloves enchanted to repel dirt. Elain hadn’t used them. She enjoyed the feeling of working with her hands. Feeling the life pulsing through the earth with every seed she sewed. Of course, he couldn’t have known any of that. She hadn’t given him the opportunity, but at least he had tried to be personable.

The shadows near the fireplace stirred. Elain drained her tea and stood as the shadows in the room seemed to stand at attention; as Azriel appeared in the hallway. That was the end of this meeting then. The inner-circle was done waiting.

Lucien rose to his feet as well. Red locks spreading over his gold-threaded tunic. Azriel's face was stone cold as he remained in the doorway, calmly observing the other male.

“Lucien is my friend. I expect all of you to treat him as such,” she said way of greeting. Smiling sweetly as she did so but a command nonetheless. Elain gathered her skirts as she made for the front door, catching the Shadow Singer’s eye as she passed. They twinkled in pleasant surprise. "And, I'd like to start training."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Know someone you think might enjoy this fic? Please be sure to share it with them!
> 
> Thanks for taking the time to read my work, hope you have a great day!
> 
> For those who have been asking, I haven't decided who Elain ends up with. I want to cover her growth as a character for a bit and explore what her relationship might be like with Lucien and the inner circle. Which pairing do you ship, and why? Let me know in the comments!


	4. Apples and Wine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Palace of Bone and Salt was surprisingly empty thanks to the warm spring afternoon. Performances in the local theaters and concert halls were back in full swing and several fae had taken advantage of the warm weather to stroll along the Sidra. Elain easily weaved through the cramped stalls selecting a few items here and there. She paused at the small tent of a spice merchant, inhaling deeply as hundreds of exotic spices filled her nose. A rustle of wings tore her attention away as she turned to look at her shopping companion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is early but I've written so much so quickly I'd rather upload it now than wait. Wednesday will be the official upload day for chapters but expect some in between on occasion.
> 
> Super excited to bring you some good Azriel content in this one. Gosh, I'm having a hard time choosing. Every time I write an Az or Lucien scene I'm totally on their respective teams. Really worried about what I'll do when the NSFW chapters come into play. Yikez!

The Palace of Bone and Salt was surprisingly empty thanks to the warm spring afternoon. Performances in the local theaters and concert halls were back in full swing and several fae had taken advantage of the warm weather to stroll along the Sidra. Elain easily weaved through the cramped stalls selecting a few items here and there. She paused at the small tent of a spice merchant, inhaling deeply as hundreds of exotic spices filled her nose. A rustle of wings tore her attention away as she turned to look at her shopping companion.

Azriel clutched a small paper bag to his massive, broad chest, overflowing slightly with fruits and vegetables they had bought in the Palace of Hoof and Leaf. Hazel eyes roamed over the spice displays before whipping to Elains face at the feeling of her watching him.

“Are you sure I can’t help you carry a few things?”

A small smile ghosted across Azriel’s lips as he shuffled the bag into one arm and shook his head.

Elain laughed and turned back to the spices. Examining a small bundle of mixed herbs before deciding against it.

“Nesta barely cooks. I don’t suppose even herbs as good as these would inspire her to start.”

Azriel’s trademark silence was his only response. They moved to the next stall, where a plump blonde female was selling fowl and eggs. Elain ran a pale hand over a basket that held a dozen of the latter, soundlessly calculating whether they would be enough for her sister.

Nesta had grown alarmingly thin since the war. Caring little about whether or not she ate, choosing to divide her time between the seediest taverns and her equally seedy apartment with complete strangers as bedmates. Sleeping all day and lashing out at Feyre and the others during her waking hours. Elain wasn’t one to judge but it pained her immensely to see Nesta like this. So, once every few weeks Elain and Azriel would spend an afternoon collecting provisions for her, and then Elain would cook for Nesta, and they’d talk. Anything she could do to make sure she was getting enough to eat...and had someone to truly be herself around.

Elain had come to enjoy the errand of stocking her sister’s cupboard, exploring the myriad of smells, tastes, and sites the Palaces had to offer. 

She caught the seller's eye to wave her over and quickly paid for the eggs. A scar-fleck hand moved swiftly in front of her to lift the basket. Elain gently batted his hand away.

“No,” she giggled. “Your hands are already full.” 

Hazel eyes twinkled underneath a pair of dark eyebrows, furrowed in amusement.

“Say something! You’ve been so quiet all afternoon!” She couldn’t stifle the laugh anymore. The idea was positively absurd to her. Her and Azriel’s friendship had blossomed quickly, had swiftly aided in her recovery, even, and in that time Elain had never known the Shadow Singer to be quiet.

“I was just waiting for you to tell me how your meeting with Lucien went.”

“You know full well how it went,” she sighed incredulously, standing on her toes to peer into the bag. They had been shopping for a few hours now and it had been a while since she’d eaten. Her appetite had taken its time to return. The sounds and images of Amren and the blood pudding seemed to brand themselves into her mind every time her stomach dared to grumble.

“I kept my promise, just like everyone else did,” he shifted slightly, positioning the bag out of her reach. “My shadows weren’t in that room with you.” He dipped a hand into the bag and pulled out a red apple, presenting it to her. She accepted, taking a bite. The words out of her mouth before she could swallow.

“It’s just so unfair.” That earned a rare, deep laugh out of the Azriel. “It is!” She protested. Shaking her head as she took another bite. “I told him I’d like to be friends. Why did I ever think that would solve anything? As if us being friends nullifies this stupid bond.” She froze. She didn’t mean that last part she realized, raising a hand to softly hover above where she felt that bond most strongly in her chest.

“Rhys and Feyre were friends long before they fell in love.” He pulled the apple from her grasp and bit into its other, untouched side. Something darkened in his eyes, making them unreadable. She looked away, cheeks burning.

“You could have just taken another apple,” she finally managed.

“I wanted to save them for Nesta.” His voice was low and tinged with regret. Throat bobbing he took another bite. Eyes venturing away from her to observe the stalls ahead they bulged as something caught his eye and he choked, coughing violently as he glared off into the distance, finally managing to swallow.

Elain turned, the subtle tones of cinnamon hit her instantly before she spotted a familiar golden head of hair. Azriel had already reverted back to his stoic silence when she glanced over her shoulder. 

Mor raised a hand to wave as she spotted them and quickened her pace to meet up with them.

“Are you going to be friends then? And see if you’ll want more,” Az hissed the words into her ear with such urgency. As if he didn’t want the quickly approaching female to hear what they had been discussing.

“That’s the plan,” she confessed as she watched Mor’s thin arms latch onto Azriel in what looked like a fierce, bone-crunching hug.

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Elain placed the remaining dishes back into the cupboard and dried her hands on the worn towel. She and Nesta had enjoyed a simple stew, one Elain had planned to last for days, organizing the leftovers expertly for Nesta’s future meals. She had planned to make an apple pie for them too, but the ones she had brought all tasted sour when she tried to sample them. The memory of the apple she shared with Azriel making her stomach tighten.

She moved back into the living room, lit only by a few candles on the water-stained coffee table. Nesta was lounging on a floor cushion, nursing a bottle of wine but switching to a glass as Elain approached and filling one for her as well. She had been rather amused when Elain had informed her of the outcome of her meeting with Lucien. Was near laughing at it even hours later.

Elain took a small sip before finally sinking onto her cushion.  
“What? I’m a grown woman, I can make my own decisions after all. Should I have told him something else?”

“I just...worry that you feel pressured to make the decision. That you’re still worried about whether or not you’ll end up trapped as a bride-You don’t have to marry, you know? You can spend the rest of your days young, and beautiful, and rich. You are Feyre’s preferred sister after all.”

“I just...I don’t want to be the burden I was before.”

“So you’re going to train?” The corners of Nesta’s mouth turned up. The closest it seemed she was capable of a smile.

“If you and Feyre can do it so can I.”

“Feyre has been galavanting around the forest since she was a child.” Hunting. Providing for them because they weren’t able to. Not exactly training as a warrior. She had learned to fight much later.”They’d make you wear fighting leathers, Elain. You won’t last long in a dress.”

“It wouldn’t be all the time. I could manage it. You’ve been training too.” Elain pressed.

“Only to shut up that overgrown bat of a general of theirs-”

“You like him,” Elain couldn’t keep the smile from her face. It was so purely satisfying. So heartwarming to see Nesta like this for someone. Even if she was in denial over it. After Tomas Mandry she didn’t blame her sister for being so wary of men...of males. For swearing off the prospect of them altogether if she so wished it. But something had changed within her sister after meeting the general. 

“I don’t, I tolerate him. Nesta said sternly. “I just like wiping that stupid smile off that smug face.” Her eyebrows knitted together, deep in thought. She smirked to herself and downed the rest of her wine. Elain sighed, taking a small sip of hers. 

“Now that Lucien has come back, do you think you could tolerate him too?”

“Just because he’s your mate doesn’t mean you need to -”

“I know. I know. I don’t owe him anything.” The same thought had echoed constantly through her mind. A point everyone felt they had to make to her. At this point, even Lucien probably knew the catch-phrase of her closest companions regarding the Autumn lord. 

“I was going to say make any rash decisions, but that too. I’m sorry...if you felt like I was chasing him off.” An apology. One to add to a small collection Nesta had ever given. All of them belonging to Elain only.

“You were protecting me. I couldn’t have handled anything like that back then.”

Nesta’s eyes darkened at the memory, wrist dipping for the wine bottle as if in reflex and quickly refilling her glass.

“He’s better than Graysen I suppose,” she stopped short of finishing her sentence. Lips forming a small ‘o’ at the realization she had mentioned Elain’s ex-fiance, whose name they had unofficially banned from speaking in the home. The women were quiet for a moment. Nesta pursed her lips as she studied her sister's face, scouring it for any sign of grief; but found none.

The ring on her finger felt incredibly tight. The name clanging around her mind, but Elain’s heart didn’t tighten as it had all those months ago -as it once did. There was no sting at the reminder of her former betrothed.

“Just answer something for me, honestly, Nesta,” Elain finally mumbled.

“Hm?” Nesta saged on her cushion slightly.

“What would you do if you had a mate?”

She swirled her glass slowly. As if she would find time to buy herself an answer within the rich red liquid. Pondering the question. Predictably Nesta raised her glass to her lips. Drinking deeply, draining it before she finally stopped setting it down on the table and stood up to place it in the sink.

“If...I had a mate...I,” her back straightened as she considered. A thousand memories Elain knew nothing about flitting through her mind...“would be very afraid.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> Thanks for reading and be sure to pass this on to any fellow Elriel/Elucien lovers you may know!
> 
> As the chapters continue and we go further into character development I'm going to be updating the tags so please be sure to check if there are any topics you're personally wary of reading. Shouldn't be anything that isn't already present within the actual books! There will eventually be NSFW content so this is your first heads up for that.
> 
> Anyway, have a good week, and thank you so so much for making it with me to chapter four! All your comments have been so sweet and just a great reminder of why I love posting to this great, supportive community.


	5. Games and Diplomacy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elain studied her reflection anxiously. Pulling on the pearl white gloves, pausing to trail her hands down her form. The fabric was clingier than what she was used to. Following the path of her curves, running over her breasts down to her waist before flaring out into a flowing silhouette. It was a dress meant to garner attention. Attention she wasn’t sure she wanted.
> 
> The panels of the skirt were long and flowing. A gradual gradient of red to pink to white panels all cut to trail in the wind behind her as she walked. An iridescent strip of twill hung from each shoulder, attaching jeweled epaulets to each side. This dress was nothing like what Elain was used to. Neither was the diamond and ruby earrings, matching combs that swept up her hair into a crown atop her head, nor the thick ruby pendant wrapped around her throat. It had all been a gift from Mor, for tonight. A gift that positively terrified her to wear. Because she had meant it as a mating present.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Happy Wednesday!
> 
> Hope you'll like this one. I wanted to explore Elain's frustration with barely knowing Lucien, Azriel sorta flirting with her, and trying to figure out where she fits in when it comes to the inner circle. 
> 
> I'm also a sucker for all those gorgeous dresses SJM describes in the series so you'll see my own take on it here too. Anyway, enjoy!

Elain studied her reflection anxiously. Pulling on the pearl white gloves, pausing to trail her hands down her form. The fabric was clingier than what she was used to. Following the path of her curves, running over her breasts down to her waist before flaring out into a flowing silhouette. It was a dress meant to garner attention. Attention she wasn’t sure she wanted.

The panels of the skirt were long and flowing. A gradual gradient of red to pink to white all cut to trail in the wind behind her as she walked. An iridescent strip of twill hung from each shoulder, attaching jeweled epaulets to each side. This dress was nothing like what Elain was used to. Neither was the diamond and ruby earrings, matching combs that swept up her hair into a crown atop her head, nor the thick ruby pendant wrapped around her throat. It had all been a gift from Mor, for tonight. A gift that positively terrified her to wear. Because she had meant it as a mating present

She hadn’t received it out of confusion. Mor had had it prepared since a little after the solstice. Had wanted to give the dress to her as a present during solstice but it hadn't been finished in time. Then Mor had found the necklace and earrings, a perfect match but now making it a gift far too grand for any solstice or birthday; so she had waited. Deciding to save the gift for an event of greater importance if one ever came along.

Such an extravagant gift was excessive, to say the least, yet a perfect symbol of Elain’s friendship with Mor. As Elain had recovered she had fallen in love with baking again, enjoying the process more so than consuming all of her creations. She had enjoyed bonding with the others, sharing her treats with them felt like a second introduction, and from those introductions bloomed friendships. Particularly with Azriel and Cassian, but especially with Mor. Elain learned very quickly that the key to the great Morrigan’s heart was through her stomach, in Elain’s case at least. 

It was not long before every pastry was met with a gift in return. Mor had tried every type. Clothing, food, jewels. Though Elain wished the female didn’t feel the need to repay her... It had embarrassed Elain deeply at first that the female felt the need to give her such things. To Elain, it was just sharing food, but to Mor, it had meant Elain cared. And Mor loved fiercely so it was really an honor that she too cared.

So when she had heard Elain had accepted a meeting with Lucien she had hoped for the best. Had assumed she finally had an excuse to give Elain her most extravagant present yet. It was just unfortunate that the female was so notoriously terrible at giving presents. 

Elain tore herself away from her thoughts to look back at the reflection before her. It wasn’t an ugly gift. It was quite beautiful actually, but it made her look like the picture-perfect Autumn Court bride.

She would wear it tonight. Couldn’t bear the thought of how it might hurt Mor’s feelings if she didn’t. But what kind of message would it send when she showed up looking like this to Lucien’s welcome dinner. 

Thankfully the female had laughed it off quite easily. Explaining to Elain how long she had had the gift for even adding “It’s much more fun if you don’t settle down with anyone for a few hundred years anyway!” Even arguing that they could skip tonight, go dancing at Rita’s. 

A soft knock sounded at the door and Feyre poked her head through the small crack. She wore a dress of her usual splendor in ‘Night Court Black’ as Elain had dubbed the shimmering blue-black hue. It was a color she noticed Rhysand had favored as well. Almost all his clothes exclusively cut from fabrics of the color. Tonight his mate would be a pretty match for him in it, with the fabric cut into whorls and spirals that cascaded along her arms and neck similar to those of the tattoos on her hands, gold clips in the shape of gardenia’s adorned her upswept hair.

They had been in the House of Wind for a few hours now, preparing for Lucien’s welcome dinner. Feyre had announced it this morning in such a matter of fact way, claiming that they hadn’t had a good party in a while and Starfall was still a ways away. Though the gesture seemed more an effort for her sister to mend her already strained relationship with Lucien than anything else. A second, less strained attempt at welcoming him into the Night Court.

“The boys are late,” she crinkled her nose as she took in the sight of Elain, clearly finding the ensemble a little out of place herself. “Are you ready?”

Elain felt herself casting another self-conscious glance back at the mirror, pulling the small train of fabric to trail behind her, and nodded. It would have to do.

“It is a little unusual for you,” Feyre admitted as they entered the hall and moved towards the stairs that would lead them up a level to the large dining room. “But you look...exquisite.” 

Skirts swished as they made the short trip up the spiral staircase. The room above was illuminated in a golden light. The sun setting through the glass doors. Mor stood on the balcony laughing with Cassian, who must have just arrived, dazzling in her usual red. 

A star flecked wind marked the arrival of Rhysand, who must have winnowed from his room a few floors away. He smirked at Feyre, wrapping his arms around her waist, eyes shifting as he studied his mate's face. Speaking to her mind to mind as they often did, in the company of their friends.

Elain wondered if that was an ability that all mates had. If she accepted a life with Lucien would she gain the ability to pull thoughts from his mind as easily as a feather in the breeze? This bond was already so overwhelming, what might it be like to know the inner workings of his mind in such detail. She shuddered, bringing herself back to the present. A soft click as the door to the stairwell opened and Lucien stepped in.

Lucien stood rigidly for a moment. Surveying the scene. The picture of the refinery in a resplendent silk red shirt, crisply woven with silver thread. Tailored black pants hugged his toned legs perfectly and his knee-high boots were a pristine black favored by most of the Night Court males.

His eyes landed on Elain. Slowly trailing them up her dress then swishing down to his own form, clearly noting the resemblance. The corners of his mouth tightened, though Elain couldn’t tell if it was out of pride or annoyance or of regret for his color choices.

The party slowly moved towards the dining room with Azriel appearing shortly after. Mor presented Elain with a brimming glass of sparkling wine with a murmur of “you’ll need this,” before dashing off to fill several more glasses and pass them around the table.

Amren, would not be joining them this evening, having eaten herself sick on blood pudding the day before, the fiend was still recovering and learning the much-needed lesson of moderation and the boundaries of her new fae body.

Cassian and Rhysand had been discussing a strategy on how to trap Bryaxis, the beast they had been tracking for the past few weeks now, but were silenced shortly after by Feyre, begging them to take the night off. Rhysand had quickly complied but Cassian now brooded at the far end of the table. An entire bottle to himself as he gazed at the wall, refusing to look at Nesta.

It appeared another fight had occurred between them tonight then, as Elain observed her eldest sister was paying the general the same treatment. Avoiding his gaze at all costs, making an effort to seem she was actually enjoying listening to a conversation between Azriel and Feyre, all the while, Elain noticed, her body ever so slightly angled towards Cassian, the true keeper of her attention. 

“May I sit with you?” Elain startled, seeing Lucien had appeared to her left, gesturing towards the carved, high back chair beside hers and gave him a slow nod. She hadn't expected him to approach her tonight... But they were friends now and she did appreciate that he had even asked.

"You...look very nice tonight." Such hesitation seemed the theme for everyone commenting on her gown tonight.

"Thank you."

"Though this gown isn't in your normal fashion, is it?"

"It was a gift from Mor..." A small smile broke out on Elain’s lips.

"Ah, that explains it. I heard she's notoriously bad at giving gifts." Elain choked on a laugh. Feeling the others watching her, watching the small exchange between them.

"Do you mean to tell me I don't look pretty this evening, Lucien?" Perhaps a friendship wouldn’t be impossible if their first conversation was already flowing easier than expected.

"I never said that. Just that you look incredibly uncomfortable."

"As do you. You know...I don't think they'd openly attack you at the dinner table. If anything I'm sure they have something far more brutal planned..."

"Can never be too careful," Lucien grinned.

"How would you prefer we do it, Vanserra?" Cassian barked a laugh from the other end of the table. Elain could feel her cheeks warming, cursing herself for forgetting just how sensitive fae hearing could be.

Mor clapped her hands with a huff. "If we must continue with the eavesdropping could we at least do it over dinner?" Thank the cauldron for Mor, Elain thought. Always there to defuse the tension with her insatiable hunger.

"What happened to that dinner roll you stole from the kitchens earlier?" Rhysand smirked. Mor shot him an incredulous look making her cousin laugh even harder as he raised his hand. With an elegant flick of his wrist, the usual magnificent spread erupted across the table. The setting sun's golden light illuminating the feast to make it look even more immaculate and mouth-watering.

Everyone settled around the table. Elain placed a spoonful of vibrant steamed vegetables onto her plate before passing the dish to Lucien and sipping from her now second glass of wine. His lips pressed into a smile as he served himself and passed the dish along, noticing the contents of her crystal glass.

"What do you think of it?"

"I think I enjoy it, but I’m not sure. This is my second glass." That earned her a hearty laugh from the fox-like lord and she added "it makes me feel much less anxious".

"I suppose that’s one of its best powers. Though the toll it takes on your inhibitions..."

"Are you afraid I'll turn into a drunkard?" she teased. “Though, it seems different from the wine I tried as a human.

“Faerie wine is a little different. Especially the effects it has on the body, and on humans- I remember Feyre tried it once- she was dancing around so much I was afraid she’d fall and split her skull open…” his russet eye shone as he recalled the memory.

Elain speared a chunk of cauliflower with her fork. Admiring the ease as it sunk in. All the produce on the table fresh from one of Velaris' farms. She savored the taste as Lucien dropped his voice slightly, to ask his next question.

“I...heard talk of you being a seer.” He had spoken with such caution, such gentleness but Elain still felt herself bite down on her fork in surprise and flinched. There came the feeling of her friends' watchful eyes on them yet again. “I’m sorry,” Lucien quickly interjected. “I know things are still…”

“I’m not some...broken doll.” Elain finally muttered carefully. “I just...I haven’t had any visions since...the war.”

They ate the rest of their meal in silence.

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Elain eased herself onto the plush couch beside Azriel. One of many in the wide living room, all rather wide, built to accommodate the large leathery wings of the Illyrians. She had selected this one, however, for the view. 

Feyre and Lucien stood just outside, on the balcony. A few feet apart from each other, taking in the view below and talking. Talking like old friends, Elain was relieved to realize. Though things had become strained between her and the Autumn lord at dinner it had been a blessing in disguise. Lucien, still unsure of what Elain was like, of what she needed, given her space after the meal giving Feyre the opportunity to speak to her former friend and discuss some things. Some things Elain knew little about. But none the less it made her happy to see that the tension between the two of them seemed to have been relieved.

Rhysand passed by and placed several decanters on the table beside Azriel who gave his High Lord a grateful look. He had been in a brooding mood for a while now. Not even deigning to join Cassian and Mor on a trip to Ritas. They had left half an hour ago without him in the end, Nesta leaving shortly after. The evening was coming to a close by all accounts but Elain didn't feel right about leaving without speaking with Lucien or at least trying to brighten Azriel's spirits.

"Can I train to be a seer?"

"You could perfect your gifts," Azriel answered, examining a near-empty bottle before selecting it as the perfect candidate to drown whatever sorrows he currently seemed to have. Not very eager to continue the conversation it seemed.

Lucien pushed through the glass doors silently, seemingly chased off by Rhysand who now stood stoically on the balcony with Feyre in his arms. His cheeks were tinged pink and he puffed breath into his hands to warm them against the light spring chill.

"Come join us, "Elain called. His eyebrows rose but his gaze softened as she allowed him a small smile and gestured to one of the large floor cushions, hoping he wouldn't mind the informal seating.

"It's getting late." He hesitated though he moved toward the pillow. A few heavy seconds passed before he finally lowered himself onto it, crossing his legs, back straight with perfect posture. "What could we possibly do at this hour?"

"Socialize."She could practically feel the smirk creeping across Azriel's' mouth, bristling for a remark but he pushed it back and took a long sip directly from the near-empty wine bottle instead. Elain pulled the bottle from his hand and brought it to her lips, hesitating a moment before tilting it up, letting the sweet red wine fill her mouth. Faerie wine. The warmth of it coated her tongue as she slowly drained the last of it from the bottle, smilingly as she set it aside, finally noticing the surprise on both Azriel and Lucien’s faces. Anything to get one to stop brooding and the other to stop avoiding her...

She giggled, throwing her head back against the plush, cushioned couch behind her. She liked this feeling. The soft buzzing in her stomach, the absence of worry or stress. It was such a shame it could only be unlocked with copious amounts of wine.

“I want to play a game,” she eased herself off of the couch, skirts rustling as she moved to sit on the marble floor near Lucien, tugging another floor cushion underneath herself. Azriel held out an arm to study her as she went down.

“What kind of game?” Lucien shifted on his cushion. The sounds in the house had completely died down. A glance at the balcony told Elain, Feyre and Rhysand had flown off. Probably to the townhouse to retire to bed. It must have been near dawn.

“A drinking game.” She huffed incredulously, pouting as it was met with the surprised laugher of the males beside her. “I’m serious!”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen her drunk before,” Azriel’s wings rustled as he adjusted himself to lounge across the length of the couch.

“Is this your first time?” Lucien teased? A beautiful dust of pink coating his cheeks. Was he finally feeling safe enough here to be himself?

“Will you two play with me or not?”

“I’d love to play with you,” Azriel took a slow sip from a new glass, propping a hand behind his head to wait for Lucien's answer. 

“As would I.” There was a hesitation there. Almost as if her invitation to the males had been for something else. Elain shoved the thought down in her mind. This was the perfect opportunity to ask these two anything she ever wanted. And she had so many questions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inner circle parties and drinking games? Sounds risky...
> 
> Thanks again for taking the time to read this, have a great rest of your day. Thanks for all your sweet comments. You guys have been so supportive, I really appreciate it!
> 
> Wanna know when I upload next? There's always a new chapter on Wednesday but sometimes I upload in between! Bookmark the fic to get a notification whenever a new one goes up.


	6. Steps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elain forced one foot after another as she made her way up and over the towering expanse of stairs that lead to the House of Wind. Her breaths rattled through her chest as she pushed on. She was used to taking the stairs at this point. Had preferred it to the alternative of flying. She didn’t like the feeling of the wind rushing up and between her skirts or the fact that no matter how tight Azriel or Cassian gripped her, one wrong move meant that she could fall. Flying wasn’t an option this morning anyway. 
> 
> A day. She had slept for a full day after Lucien’s welcome party. Her mind was still clouded by the images of it now. Not the dinner, though things could have been a little less awkward at that too. No, Elain’s mind was occupied with what had gone on after everyone had gone home for the night.

Elain forced one foot after another as she made her way up and over the towering expanse of stairs that lead to the House of Wind. Her breaths rattled through her chest as she pushed on. She was used to taking the stairs at this point. Had preferred it to the alternative of flying. She didn’t like the feeling of the wind rushing up and between her skirts or the fact that no matter how tight Azriel or Cassian gripped her, one wrong move meant that she could fall. Flying wasn’t an option this morning anyway.

A day. She had slept for a full day after Lucien’s welcome party. Her mind was still clouded by the images of it now. Not the dinner, though things could have been a little less awkward at that too. No, Elain’s mind was occupied with what had gone on after everyone had gone home for the night.

Well, almost everyone. Elain had been mortifyingly un-lady-like. By her own standards. No one had chided her on her behavior this morning. She had only run into Nuala and Cerridwen when she had gone to the kitchens for a quick breakfast at the townhouse. No one else seemed to have been home. Even if the events of that night had been gossip-worthy only the shadows would have been there to witness it, and their keeper had been with her.

Her fingers absently grazed over the space where until yesterday, her ring had been. A shudder rippled through her as she gazed up ahead, counting the stairs. She was a little more than halfway. She couldn't explain the emptiness that pooled in her stomach. She didn't miss the ring, as much as its feeling. The slight weight it added around her finger, the noises it made when knocked against hardwood, dragging across banisters, the tinkling as it made contact with silverware.

She had taken it off the other night and hadn't put it back on since. It now sat on the corner of her nightstand in the townhouse. Not exactly gathering dust- it hadn't been there that long. But...was it abandoned? Was her removal of it a breaking of her binding to Graysen? For her- symbolically- she had to remind herself. As Graysen had broken their engagement off long ago.

No one had forced her to remove it. But she had felt the heavy stare of the two males beside her. Cheeks heated from the four bottles of wine they had shared. They hadn't even mentioned Graysen to her or the mating bond. The ring had just felt uncomfortable in the moment. She hadn't thought anything of it as she slid it off and placed it on the coffee table beside her. She had been more focused on the question Lucien had just asked Azriel. The shadow singer had been usually brooding all evening but the question had sparked something in him. He had swiftly sat up from his lounging position, eyes fixed on the view, visible through the glass doors.

"What?" Azriel had whispered. Not even half paying attention. He had been brooding all evening, even with Elain coaxing him to down all the wine she could find, trying her best to ask exciting questions that might entice him to play, might muster even a half-smile.

"Have you ever been in love," Lucien repeated. Cheeks ruddy as he swirled the wine in his glass, casting an eye at the four bottles they had already finished. At least one of them was having fun.

It was the first question of merit so far. Until now it had been all 'did one have a favorite sibling?' Or 'Was there a pleasure they felt guilty for enjoying?' Lucien had finally asked something daring. Something that hearing the answer to would make Elain feel closer to these males. To her friends. Elain watched a wave of sadness rush over the shadow singer's face. Ebbing its way across the tan, handsome plains of it until it was gone and he shook his head as if clearing the thoughts from his mind.

"No," he said finally.

"I don't think that's true," Lucien's eye narrowed but he took a deep sip from his drink, rather than continue to press. Elain sighed. It was clearly something Azriel didn't want to talk about. Whether it was over...whatever it was he felt for Mor... or for someone she had never met; maybe it was best for Azriel if she didn't push.

"If you don't answer you have to drink," she offered before turning her attention to Lucien, as the dark-haired male nodded, and drained his glass.

"You," she pressed her lips together, feeling her mind go blank at the ripple of excitement that rushed through her. Not her own, but through that fragile strand of something between her and this redheaded fae.

"Me," he echoed. The gentle clicking of his eye ceased as he fixed her stare with his own. She had wanted to ask these two so much when things had started- yet now she was drawing a blank. Lucien shifted uncomfortably on the cushion, not having anticipated Elain would draw out the silence this long. She studied the skin that peeked out from underneath his shirt. He had loosened a few buttons as the night had gone on. As they finished bottle after bottle and the heat in the room had grown. He was smaller than Azriel in form but underneath the fine cut shirt she could still make out the rippling body of a seasoned warrior.

Seasoned. How many seasons exactly? These fae beside her were ancient. Had known a world so different from her own. Long, long before she had ever walked it.

"How many..." the word stuck to her tongue in defiance...but she had to know. Not for her own selfish reasons, just to grasp how long they'd been alive in this world compared to her. The infinite expanse of life they'd lived before she'd arrived. "How many entanglements have you had?"

Lucien huffed a nervous laugh. Cheeks flushing pink as he circled his gaze across the room before finally bringing it back to meet hers.

"Entanglements? Is it because you-" He stopped himself.

"Answer the question." Azriel's wings stirred as if as a reminder to Elain that he was still there. 

“How many have you been with?” The crude question was out before she could school herself.

“I’m ancient, Elain,” Lucien floundered as if he had to justify his answer.“There...have been a few.”

"A few?" Azriel gave a dark laugh. Sadness coated the Autumn Lordling's features and Elain felt her heart tighten. Felt the powerful sadness that Lucien had endured. Her hand itched in her lap as she considered reaching out to him. To do something to quiet the deep raging sadness that seemed to cripple the hearts of both her companions.

"It's getting late, isn't it?" Azriel rose to his feet, staggering slightly as he threw out a toned arm towards the balcony. The only indicator that the copious amounts of wine had had any effect on him at all.

"One more question, please?" Elain pressed her lips into a slight pout as the shadow singer offered her hand to help her up. She took it. Glancing out onto the balcony she could see the golden streams of light creeping through the mountain as the sun was rising.

"Will you come train tomorrow, like you wanted to?" Azriel was already approaching the balcony doors.

"Yes- but I'm not counting that as the final question!" Scooping up her ring she followed after Azriel before the soft lilt's of Lucien's voice made her turn. Guilt rippling through her at the realization that she had nearly forgotten it on the damn coffee table.

"How do you see your future, oh great seer?"

She choked. Chest tightening. What a question. But Lucien was all smiles. Handsome face cleaved by a glowing white grin.

"If you don't want to answer, you can always drink."

Azriel paused, in the midst of pushing open the heavy glass doors. Elain could hear everything down below. The wind, the rush of the Sidra, the sounds of Velaris. All of it drowned out by the sounds of her thundering heart.

"I don't know." It came out in a whisper. But she repeated herself, "I truly...don't know. But I want to have full control over it. I want to have made it for myself."

The memory petered away from her in an instant as she saw the familiar fiery red hair bobbing ahead of her on the stairs. She hurried to join Lucien, on his way to a meeting with Rhysand in an effort to prove his good intentions towards the court. Towards Feyre and the others.

“You seem nervous.” She said, way of greeting gathering her skirts in hand, quickening her pace to match Lucien's. Welcoming the distraction of conversation from the feat that climbing these stairs always was.

“If I die at this meeting” his voice quivered with false hysteria as he shot her a playful smile. “Please pick the flowers for my funeral.”  
“Lilies and chrysanthemums,” she hummed as they followed a turn in the stairs.

“How romantic,” Lucien snickered before taking a pause to look back on the flights and flights of stairs behind them. “I just want to meet the idiot that thought to ward this place against winnowing…”

“I don’t mind the stairs. Winnowing seems a bit frightening.”

“You get used to it. You could learn it, in fact.”

Their conversation was cut short as they reached the landing. Lucien peeling off towards the right, where he was to meet with Rhysand in the study; while Elain made for the left, towards the training galleries.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\//\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\//\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\//\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\//\

When she arrived Feyre and Cassian were locked in rigorous combat, both clad in their usual fighting leathers. Azriel gave her a slight nod in greeting and indicated to a small wooden stool with a new set of fighting leathers, neatly folded atop it. They were different from what the others wore. Less clingy around certain parts it seemed, just by judging from afar. It was very likely they had been made just for her...

“You can try these on in a minute if you’d like. Or we can start by going over some of the basics, starting with self-defense.”Azriel spoke slowly, Elain nodded for him to continue, shoving past the growing nervousness she was feeling. The small protests her mind was giving. She was small. She wasn’t like Feyre or Nesta. She wasn’t strong. But she would be, she reminded herself.

“I thought we could also talk about training you as a seer.” He had remembered. It hadn’t mattered that he’d been in a bad mood. At least he had been listening.  
“I want to start with that.”

“Alright.” Azriel guided her farther into the room, towards the massive windows flooding the room with sunlight. The air was warmer here. The grunts and clanging of weapons were a dim, distant ringing. “Close your eyes,” Azriel instructed. His voice taking on a fervoring authority.  
Elain obeyed.

"Look into the void," Azriel whispered, mouth a breadth from her ear as he came to stand behind her. Concentrate, she reminded herself. "Remember that you can always pull back."

Pull back. Right. Not like the caldron at all. There was infinite darkness in her mind but she was its master. She willed it, commanded it just like all those around her. But the darkness would only whisper its secrets to her. In her mind's eye, she saw it. Swirling, untamed, unfathomable darkness. Old and young, deep yet shallow. Like the waters of the cauldron. Nausea bubbled in her stomach, flowing to her throat- No. She would not be afraid. She had peered through this feral void before, without even meaning to. She would learn to rule it, to summon it-

A flash of red, of blue, and of black. A dark room, a bed, sheets rumple over top a garden of hands and feet, arching and curling and moaning with ecstasy. Figures rolling this way and that. Her brown eyes flashed open. She flinched, as the vision pushed her out. 

A warm scarred hand gingerly gripped her arm, turning her towards Azriel's worried face.

"If you see something you don't like," his voice was quiet, but not weak. "Just know...the future isn't always set in stone." Elain ran a trembling hand across the back of her neck, cold and slick with sweat. There was no point in being scared she reminded herself; because she barely understood what she had just seen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooh mysterious?  
> Felt like I wrote myself into a corner in the last chapter! Hopefully, I fixed it. Only future me will know.  
> This chapter ended up being a bit shorter than I would have liked. Had a lot going on with work this week.  
> Have you read ACOSF yet? I'm still waiting for it in the mail. I ordered one of the special editions with the Feysand chapter. What version did you end up getting? Have you read it?  
> I do eventually want Nessian to be canon in this though I think I'll wait. I don't want to spoil the book for anyone so be careful in the comments, please!
> 
> Anyway, thanks for sticking with me for six whole chapters, wow!  
> Hope you enjoyed and see you soon! Thanks for reading!


	7. The View From Up Here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's going to include a couple of other perspectives! In the future expect Elain, Az, and Lucien chapters. Please be sure to let me know if I haven't done a clear job of indicating them, I don't want this to get confusing. Thanks!

**_Elain_ **

The rest of the day's training had been a blur. It was marveling to Elain, how she managed to climb those ten thousand steps to the house on occasion yet could barely muster the strength to push through the simple balancing circuits Azriel had shown her. By the time they were finished her body was stiff and sore and she could barely raise herself up on her arms let alone stand. A muffled laugh followed by the presentation of a tanned, scarred hand before her. Elain gripped it as Azriel steadily pulled her up.

“The stretching is the worst part!” 

Azriel huffed a laugh before presenting her with a glass of water which she quickly accepted and downed entirely. Feeling several drops sliding off either side of her lips, down her chin and neck. She welcomed it, helping her cool off.

"It's also the most important part." Azriel swallowed. His eyes traced the path of one of the stray droplets, as it made its way down her neck before nestling underneath her leathers; his hazel eyes snapped back to her as he lost track of it.

The clashing of blades behind them ceased. Elain turned her attention to them. Watching as Feyre moved swiftly towards the water station, not an ounce of stiffness showing in her form.

Feyre and Rhysand had been trying to conceive for a few months now. Although she had kept up a smile as she’d explained that Fae children were incredibly rare, and the process would be long and stressful Elain could tell Feyre was already beginning to become frustrated with herself. Throwing all her energy into training, tracking Bryaxis, and the threat of Illyrian civil war on the horizon probably wasn't doing anything to alleviate any stress on her body.

She watched as her sister filled two glasses, passing one to Cassian before the duo approached them. Feyre’s gray stare was proud as she examined Elain’s leathers from afar.“Are they comfortable for you?”

Elain nodded. They were of a lighter brown. Looser fitting around her chest. Long-sleeved with floral tendrils stamped into the leather, where traditional Illyrian leathers had scales. The pants were looser and less form-fitting as well. Elain had settled for the knee-high boots, knowing that proper ones would be necessary for form and balance, but these were a lighter color as well, as if carefully selected to complement the rest of the ensemble.

“They’re wonderful. Thank you.” She placed her empty glass on a nearby table. “I didn’t know they made Illyrian leathers like these.”

“They don’t,” said Cassian, finishing his water. “There’s a female up in Windhaven who made them for you. Az picked them up just this morning.”

She shot the shadowsinger a small, grateful smile, who nodded.

“Same time again tomorrow then.” Elain watched as at least a dozen shadows clouded around Azriel before he made a swift exit through the glass doors, more than likely headed to a meeting with Rhysand.

Cassian was shuffling around the training ring, rearranging weapons they hadn’t even used, adjusting large swords that hadn't left the racks. Clearly making a point to not leave. What was he waiting for? Elain ignored it as she felt Feyre watching her.

“So training went well?” Elain couldn’t help the smile that met her lips. What was Feyre prodding at? Had she seen what had happened when she had tried to use her gifts? Was the scent of her fear that strong?

“You saw how training went.”

“You also tried to seer.” So she had noticed.

“Feyre-” 

“I know. But what did you-” 

“Nothing. Feyre, I’m not made of glass. I won’t break if I fall- a scrape won’t kill me-”

A pointed cough from Cassian pulled her out of it, reminding them that they weren’t alone. Elain could practically feel the leash Cassian had just reminded her of, tugging at her neck as if to reprimand her for daring to speak to her High Lady like that. From the look Feyre gave her it seemed she understood too. But this wasn't just her High Lady.

“I know you’re not made of glass. But I also know it’s been hard. That we were all scared of what was going to happen to you- that now that you’re alright we’re scared it’ll happen again.”

“I’m not the one we need to worry about anymore.” Nesta. Nesta was the one they needed to look out for. The silence that fell over the training ring was too much for Elain to bear. The three of them in particular had worked so hard.

A rustle of wings sent Feyre’s head snapping back. “Get over here.”

Cassian obeyed, a shy grin Elain wasn’t sure she’d ever seen from the general was glued to his face as he approached them. He was bleeding slightly at the forehead, the only indicator that Feyre had won their small tryst.

“Cassian has to go to Windhaven for a few hours. I think we need a plan for Nesta. Will you go with him? Maybe compare notes?” The effortlessness with which her sister could transition her voice into that of High Lady was marveling. "Then we'll try and come up with some sort of plan at dinner."

"What does Rhys-," Elain began.

"She doesn't want Rhys involved," Cassian's snapped, his own brows shooting up in surprise at the defensiveness in his own tone. "Sorry- but...we all know they don't-maybe we'll talk to Amren?"

Elain nodded as the silence descended over them again. There was so much at stake here. Nesta had been fine last night. A moment of clarity, the first in a while. Just last week Cassian had dragged her sister's limp body out of a particularly seedy pleasure hall- by Velaris standards at least. Cassian had clearly forgone some of the details to spare them in his story but the few details he had offered had been just as grim. Things were already strained between Feyre and Rhys from all the Night Court's budding conflicts across its territory, Nesta's dislike for her sisters' husband probably wasn't helping things. Not husband- mate. Mate. She had to remind herself of that.

Cassin spread his wings, opening an arm towards Elain, in invitation. She accepted, stepping into it, and with that, Cassian delicately scooped her into his arms, Feyre’s own wings quickly forming beside them as they bid a quick farewell and rose into the sky to the sound of powerful flapping wings. Feyre’s face wrought with concern as she peeled off towards the glittering buildings of the rainbow, no doubt headed to her studio. She made a mental note to talk to her, watching the small cut on Cassian’s forehead already closing as they made their way over the Sidra.

His brows we tense as they silently flew, hazel eyes trained on the horizon as they soared over the city, bustling in the afternoon sun. “Has training with Nesta been going well?”

Cassian cringed, a clear answer for Elain. The fine muscles around her recoiling, just at the mention of her sister. But it was an important question. Nesta had done everything in her power to remove herself from their lives. A stew a few times a month wasn’t going to be that much help in the long run. Especially when Nesta only let Elain in on occasion. It wasn’t as if Elain could force the food down her sister’s throat.

“We’re not training anymore.” The bluntness in Cassian’s voice did nothing to hide the sadness as it leaked into his eyes. They were all trying, Cassian especially, but they were all getting so tired of trying. Nesta had done what, a day of training then? A chill in the air pulled her from her thoughts.

"We're not flying all the way there- are we?"

"Mor's coming with us. We're winnowing. There’s a storm coming, it wouldn’t be too pleasant to get stuck in. Though if you'd prefer the more scenic route-"

Elain shook her head vehemently, seeing the dark clouds on the horizon, already realizing the leathers didn't offer much for warmth. Cassian huffed a laugh and shook his head, just as they descended towards the river where the construction of Feyre and Rhysands' new home had just begun. They landed smoothly on the broad lawn, what would eventually become the yard of the house. Elain watched as hundreds of fae of all sorts bustled around, carrying building supplies or consulting the detailed blueprints. Feyre had designed the home herself. Just watching her had been amazing. As if her sister had been assembling a puzzle only she knew, each piece fitting in perfectly as if to mirror whatever home she had dreamed up for herself, for her friends and family that grew in her heart. Every panel and tile, stair, room, and alcove seemed meant to be. The foundation for it had barely been finished but Elain knew it would be the perfect place for her sister, for Rhysand, for all of them. To build families, raise children, grow old...for millennia.

**_Lucien_ **

This study was decorated immaculately, just like all the rooms in this court it seemed, Lucien couldn't deny that. The High Lord of Night Court sat behind his dark, mahogany desk, back to the window from which the sunlight poured into dapple pools of yellow light onto the male's blue-black hair. Shadows stirred in the doorway, finally signaling the arrival of the shadowsinger. The face of the deadly Illyrian warrior was stark against his wall of darkness, a cold expression settling over it.

So this was how it was going to be then? Lucien stirred, ever so slightly in his chair as he tracked the movements of the male who approached the blue velvet chair beside his but didn't sit. Resting his arms across the broad back of it instead.

First Rhysand had been late. Then, when he had finally arrived, after a bit of small talk they had settled into silence to wait for Azriel who had been training. With Elain. Rhysand had made a point not to mention that last part. As if Lucien hadn't been able to scent it himself. As if what the female did was supposed to all be approved by him and the Night Court was charmingly going against tradition as they notoriously liked to do; hiding it from him. It made his blood boil. That they acted like he was some feral beast they were to be wary of. That should they say a wrong thing it might snap a tether to him and send him barreling towards sweet Elain, claws outstretched- ready to-

Of course, he wouldn't. He wasn't a feral beast, slave to his every whim. Tamlin's face appeared in his mind and he struggled to shove the guilt that accompanied it- the beast he had let his friend become. No. Feyre and he were passed that. Lucien swallowed and then did so once more, hoping it wasn't an indicator of his uneasiness to his current companions.

He wasn't a feral beast. Ready to attack anyone that comes near his mate. But he wanted her. Badly. He couldn't deny that. The aching he felt- just in the past few days alone had left him writhing against his sheets, shamefully wishing for sleep to claim him.

"And how is your band of misfits-" Rhysand began, pulling Lucien from his thoughts. He stiffened as he scented the shame and arousal- so slight perhaps the two males hadn't noticed it coming from him.

"Outcasts," Lucien was careful to keep his tone neutral.

"How sweet," the edges of Rhy's mouth quirked up into a condescending smile. Lucien was well aware of what he was trying to do. This was all a direct result of his actions. He had run away to the humans to be with Jurian and Vassa, to catch a breather from the politics, the scheming- the death only to come crawling back months later- desperate for Elain. Rhysand's thinking was by all standards modern, controversial. Just because his own mate had accepted their bond didn't mean he would force Feyre's sister to do the same. And he had no intention of it but- mother damn him would it have been a blessing if she did. They barely knew each other- he knew it was a primal need... but the need! The mating bond was something they had all been raised to hope to one day have-that feeling of it snapping into place was supposed to have been celebrated. Lucien knew exactly how this all looked. He had run away only to what it probably seemed to Rhysand; come back to claim what he thought was rightfully his. Of course, they didn't trust him. 

"Are we, not friends, Lucien?" Rhysand shot him a winning smile as he reclined into his chair. Lucien could have sworn he saw the slightest outline of wings behind him. Yet another intimidation tactic? Rhy was normally more composed than this. Something really must have been bothering him if he was pulling out so many tricks.

"Of course we are, Rhys."The shadowsinger meanwhile remained in stoic silence. Funny. He had been the same the other night when poor Elain had invested so much of her time into putting a smile on his damn face. "What do you want?" 

They wanted him to prove his loyalty. He'd do it too. How surprising it was, that Tamlin could be more upfront with his emotions than either of these two. How Tamlin was a stickler for tradition and rank, yet these two males belong two a court with a secret glittering city. A home in the midst of a sea of nightmares. A table where the Highlord sat in a corner, his _High Lady_ beside him, a fiend at the table's head, and two Illyrian bastards at its other. Yet he was the one that couldn't be trusted. Lucien had never lied despite now belonging to a court that seemed to make a sport out of it.

"A simple mission my dear little Lucien. You remember the human queens?"

"How could I forget?"

"They've been awfully silent since the war. I have it on good authority that they're rather upset with us. Particularly that one that's been turned into a croan. With no one to point the blame on but us she's gotten a bit testy."

"And I am to...?" Lucien's voice came out strained and he forced himself to clamp down on the anger boiling within him. Games. It was always a game for Rhys.

"Gather intel, spy." Rhysand steepled his fingers as he leaned forward, resting his elbows atop his desk, ignoring the papers that rustled beneath them. Stacks and stacks of reports, Lucien observed. All detailing the whereabouts of some dark creature and its disappearance.

"Isn't that his job?" He didn't bother gesturing to the shadowsinger, the court's spy. They knew exactly what he meant. Rhys loosen a dark chuckle from his throat.

"You'll be reporting to him."

"So this is a test." Rhysand nodded. Lucien rose from his chair, red hair sweeping over his shoulders as he did so. "I Accept." Though he didn’t have a choice. He cast a wary gaze towards the city. Far below lay the small home he had purchased for himself, just after the war. 

"Take today to prepare. I'll winnow you back to the continent tomorrow morning." That was his dismissal. Lucien stiffened, holding back a bow, and turned on his heels, skirting towards the door.

"I'll look forward to it," he tossed over his shoulder. The door shutting itself behind him was the High Lord's only response.

**_Azriel_ **

Azriel fought to contain the rage that pooled in his stomach, ignoring the cool, sleek clicking of the black talons he knew all too well, requesting access to his mind. His hazel eyes fixed on the fiery wave of red hair as it shifted over the shoulders of the other male as he turned and left the room, the reek of his mating bond all too clear as he spotted Elain flying past the window in Cassian's arms. When Lucien finally left the room he watched as the door snickered shut on a star flecked wind and turned towards the sound of clinking glasses as Rhy filled two glasses with an amber liquid he already knew he'd be too eager to down. 

His brother's fingers were poised atop the glass nearest to Azriel. The stars in his violet eyes winking out at the realization dawned on him. As the anger and contempt towards Elains mate registered. Rhys simply shook his head before sliding the glass towards his shadowsinger. No words needed to be exchanged for the male to understand his brother's command. It was simple. 

_ No. Absolutely, not. Under any circumstances.  _ **_No._ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late upload. I got ACOSF on Monday and I've been reading it since. I'm so sad I'm almost done. This might actually be my favorite book...ever?   
> Anyway, hoped you liked the different perspectives in this one. I think it gives me a lot more opportunities for writing. Sorry, this one ended up being kind of short, wanted to set stuff up for the next couple of chapters.
> 
> Below is sorta a spoiler warning for ACOSF? I don't talk about the plot but I hint at character development so read at your own risk? I don't wanna ruin anything for you.
> 
> !!!!!KINDA SPOILER WARNING FOR ACOSF!!!!!!?
> 
> Anyway! Aside from plot spoilers, there were a lot of storylines I liked and character development I found interesting and wanted to write from Elain's perspective. I think what is eventually going to happen is either a time jump or just me eventually moving the story there naturally (whatever more makes sense for this fic) so we can see what's going down for Elain during the ACOSF timeline and a little after as well. I don't know about you but I go through end of story withdrawal so hard so for me this would be a perfect way to cope! Especially because it's going to be at least a year and a half before we get another book. I'll put ample tags when the time for this all comes through but you will probably start to see me laying ground work for it.


	8. How to Play the Game

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Wednesday!  
> This chapter ended up being kind of long so I'll be uploading more of it later this week!

**_Elain_ **

The freezing cold of the Illyrian mountains sunk its teeth into Elain as soon as they arrived. Her leathers did nothing to shield her from it as it bore under her skin, deep into her bones almost making her wish the three of them could have stayed huddled for the warmth. Her teeth were chattering by the time Mor ushered her the few steps over to the house, seemingly unaffected herself. Elain wished they could have just winnowed directly into the house but it was important that the Illyrians saw their presence, not just Cassian’s but hers and Mor’s as well.

Most of the snow around the camp had melted, the remainder gathering in ugly brown patches around the muddy ground. Hardly anything grew in the camp, the ground was bleak, just as it had been the last time she’d visited. 

Elain eagerly awaited the warmth of Rhysand's mother's house. She hadn't been inside since the war. The door creaked open as they filed in. Cassian peeled towards the direction of the kitchen, a smile forming on his lips as he realized the opportunity, the chance for a guided tour. 

Elain slowly shrugged off her cloak and briskly kicked the snow and mud from her boots. Taking in the small cottage once home to the three most fearful Illyrians of all time. It was worn yet homey. The scents of her friends lingered throughout the house.

Mor flopped onto the couch in the small attached living room, pulling a book from behind one of the cushions. Cassian opened a cupboard and removed three mugs, preparing tea Elain realized. Both so at home here. Feeling her attention on him he turned. His sour mood from before seeming to have disappeared.

Elain moved towards the small kitchenette, taking a seat atop one of its nearby worn, wooden stools, and accepted one of the now steaming mugs he handed her. Warm notes of honey and lemon hit her tongue and she fought to keep from sighing as she felt herself warming up from within. 

“It’s been a while since you’ve been here,” Cassian drawled. The male bravado was impressively strong all things considered. “Do you need a tour?”

In half an hour he would be leaving to meet some of the warbands, afterward, he'd be expected to return and they’d attempt to discuss...Nesta. Though Elain didn’t know Cassian’s personality inherently well it was clear he was stalling. Attempting to joke around, to occupy his mind from the Illyrian warbands he would soon be forced to deal with so she nodded. Let him blow off steam. The Nesta conversation wouldn’t be easy.

“Rhy’s and Feyre fucked there,” He said, voice ever so casual. Elain felt the overwhelming heat blooming on her face as he gestured to the kitchen table. “There,” he pointed to the floor, “there,” the countertops. Elain raised a hand to stop him but a devilish smile cleaved his lips as he finally admitted, “Well, just pretty much everywhere. Pesky thing that mating bond when it snaps between two fae. Makes them feel the need to do it just about everywhere in sight.”

It was a crude comment, but Elain allowed a smile to her face. Cheeks still blazing she shook her head. An interesting way to blow off steam for the general. Was this his way of asking about Lucien or was he just enjoying teasing her? Was this what friendship with Cassian was like? 

“Please don’t feel the need to do the same should your own ever snap while here,” Mor murmured from the couch without looking up from her book.

“Now don’t tell me you’re jealous, Mor-” his sentence cut short as he was forced to duck the book she had hurled at him. She smiled sweetly before resting her chin on the back of the couch to turn her attention towards Elain. "Don’t worry, we had the place cleaned after."

"Deep cleaned," Cassian chuckled, stooping to pick up the book and place it on the counter. Mor smoothly stood and claimed the stool beside Elain's, blowing gently on the mug Cassian placed before her.

"Is that normal then?" Elain wished she could hide the blooming heat she felt on her face, the pink that must be coating her cheeks right now. 

"Do...you not know the rules?" A roguish smile bloomed on the general's face and Elain felt herself shifting in her seat. Feyre had explained them. The rules of the mating bond, of fae life in general. That the bond could be accepted or rejected. What the results of it might feel like. The ceremonies she could go through- the offering of food- the...sex. All of which her sister had maintained were choices for her to make. Rhysand offering her protection should her choices result in her needing it had been...concerning.

“I do...I just-”

“Don’t know if you want it.” Mor finished for her.

“It isn’t fair.”

“It’s not about fair- it’s a proper match. Though I’m sure you’ll have no trouble finding someone else if you give old Vanserra the boot.” Cassian’s wings spread slightly, he leaned forward as he stretched them. “There’s plenty of other males out there if that’s what you want.” 

Was it? She didn’t know. She had been so focused on other things she hadn’t begun to entertain the thought of moving on with another male. She hadn’t explored ...the way Nesta had. Until now Elain had only been with Graysen. The thought of courting a stranger made her stomach turn.

“Just don’t go for one of those Illyrians,” Mor teased, sipping from her mug. Shooting Cassian a grin as his brows furrowed. “They’re just big winged babies.” They all laughed but a question tugged at the back of Elain's mind.

Elain felt her lips curl into a smile as she realized, “neither of you have a mate?”

Mor and Cassian fell silent. The wrong thing to ask Elain realized, all too late. Perhaps they did, and just hadn’t acknowledged or accepted those bonds. There was absolutely no guarantee they were alive. If they were, were they outside the Night Court? No, Elain had to remind herself she could scent that bond. Had to remember the way Cassian looked at her sister. There was most likely no one else for him.

“True, that my dear Elain is a blessing.” Cassian recovered smoothly, smiling despite the unreadable look still in his eyes. “Fare more freedom that way.”

“More freedom for you to terrorize Nesta?” Mor asked. Not meeting his eyes as she became suddenly all too interested in draining her mug. Cassian’s eyes darkened. He pretended to adjust his leather jacket. No one spoke.

“We’ll have dinner when you get back,” Mor said, as a dismissal. Cassian nodded before skirting for the door. Neither looking at each other or Elain. A freezing wind swept in a few stray snowflakes as the door opened and closed. The wind was picking up, making the house groan signifying the arrival of the storm outside. 

**_Azriel_ **

Azriel ignored the guilt pooling in his chest as he squatted on the shingles of the rooftop beneath him, making sure his body was covered by shadows cast from the taller buildings above. Now past noon, the shadows had grown long, shifting in his favor as he peered down at the Autumn Court male making his way through the wide streets of Velaris. His thoughts turned to a conversation he had had with his brothers a few months ago, last Starfall when he had claimed he never spied on Lucien. What a lie that would now be.

Though Rhys most likely would have approved. Lucien was allowed in the city only under the agreement that he continued to serve them faithfully. Azriel wondered if Feyre was aware of this test of loyalty her mate was inflicting upon her friend, upon her sister's mate.

Azriel cringed, feeling another wave of anger ripple through him. What had he done that the cauldron should pass over him as such? He knew the answer. Being a nothing, low born. Choosing the company of shadows rather than the opportunities and friends fate seemed to throw at him. He was as cold as the waters that rippled through that damn cauldron. Not to mention the unspeakable things he so routinely did.

Lucien smoothly ducked into a doorway of an elegant gold apartment. It shone in the late afternoon light, yellow-gold stones glittering under a blanket of ivy vines creeping up its sides with a gilded red-tiled roof. 

Lucien occupied the entire upper floor. A two-bedroom suite with a large kitchen, opulent bathing room, and small living room with windows that faced towards the river which flowed not ten paces from the front door. It was exactly the type of residence one might have pictured for a high lord's son. Tastefully decorated Azriel learned through one of his shadows. It seemed Lucien had selected the apartment for its rooftop terrace which held a small garden, greenhouse, and dining set. Plenty of room to plant flowers or vegetables or anything Elain desired when she visited him.

Not that she had. The townhouse garden was much bigger than anything Lucien could offer. The river house Feyre was designing would have a garden to rival both. 

It left Azriel wondering about the state of his own gardens. He had a residence in the mountains that he and Cassian used on occasion as a base. Though the ground there wouldn't be ideal for gardening. The House of Wind wasn’t exactly cut out for such a thing either. Perhaps he ought to purchase a manor as Mor had done. A private home away from the others. A break from Velaris. A break from the others. It seemed like Elain could use a break from the Night Court…A sanctuary for Elain? 

Azriel shook himself from his thoughts as Lucien’s form appeared on the roof. Gaze searching for Azriel but failing to find him amongst the shadows. The male gave up and called into the wind, an invitation to come inside. Azriel smirked. 

**_Lucien_ **

The shadow singer was watching him. Though he had been particularly careful about not getting caught. There hadn’t even been any tell-tale signs to prove it. But Lucien still had the feeling he was being watched. After all- why wouldn’t they be keeping their eyes on him? 

He swiftly made his way up the spiral staircase and onto the roof. Sticking his hands in his pockets to appear as casual and at ease as he could. Lucien ignored the wisps of his scarlet hair the wind swept into his face and focused on his breathing- ensuring his voice would come out steady and calm.

“Would you like anything to drink, Azriel?” He called out into the air. Unsure of what direction the shadow singer lurked in. Silence. Lucien closed his eyes cursing himself for his paranoia. How his neighbors must think him mad. Disappearing for months on end only to return and talk to the wind from his rooftop. His rapid heartbeats stilled as he heard the soft beat of wings and the dark-haired male stepped out from the shadows. His expression unreadable as he simply nodded in answer to Lucien’s earlier question.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all your comments and feedback! I really appreciate your love for the story!  
> Thanks for reading!


	9. An Olive Branch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had a lot of fun writing these contrasting perspectives. Enjoy! We're finally going to get into some real action soon!  
> On another note thank you for 1000 hits!  
> !!!!!!!Starting to get into ACOSF references here, just as a warning!!!!!!

**_Lucien_ **

Lucien let out a sigh as he leaned back into his chair. One of two twin black velvet armchairs Feyre had given him as a housewarming present. The other, positioned across from him between the carved chestnut coffee table was currently occupied by Azriel.

The shadow singer slowly raised his wine glass as he caught Lucien’s eye. His face was blank but his eyes lacked their usual coldness. Lucien watched him take a sip before lifting his own glass to his lips, savoring the smooth white wine as it glided down his throat, its spreading warmth as it settled in his stomach.

He hadn’t expected Azriel to reveal himself. The fact that the male had blatantly admitted to spying by doing so was odd enough but Lucien hadn’t expected to be taken up on his invitation. 

Setting his glass down on the table and moving towards the tall bookshelves that lined the only windowless wall in the apartment Lucien selected a stack of parchment and a quill. He nodded to Azriel who was calmly watching him, a leg crossed over his right knee. Just here to brief him on the mission, perhaps?

“Have you been able to locate any of the other human queens?” Lucien moved back to his chair, moving aside his forgotten wine, and poised his writing materials atop the table.

“What are you doing?” Azriel’s voice seemed distant. The most emotion Lucien had ever heard from the male.

“Taking notes,” Lucien’s brows rose as he turned his attention back to his guest.

“That’ll get you compromised. Ample evidence against you if you get caught by an enemy.”

“I just want to organize my thoughts- I’ll burn them before I leave.” Lucien knew the risks. He was no spymaster but it was odd that Azriel was preaching such basics like this to him. Did he and Rhys really think him that naive and clumsy? Azriel’s face remained vacant. 

“Is something wrong, Azriel?” They had never been friends. During Amarantha’s reign, Lucien had practically forgotten all about Azriel’s existence entirely. He had heard stories of course, of the war, of Rhys. All the major heroes. As a child, he had been more interested in tales of the warriors and generals such as Jurian, not the Illyrians.

Jurian, who was now his friend and housemate. It brought a fond smile to his face- that Jurian had been shy at first to regale Lucien with tales from the war- but he had eventually conceded, merely begging Lucien that he not treat the man as such a legend but simply as his friend. They had spent many nights hiking and hunting and sharing battle stories after that. Jurian had seemed genuinely interested in Lucien's tales. It was flattering, to say the least.

Lucien forced himself to shove the thought aside. He would see his friends again- perhaps even make new ones within the Night Court as well. He just had to be careful not to spread himself too thin. A friend in every court could be an asset but it could also be a burden if another war were to break out.

A breeze swept in through one of the large open windows causing the tiny crystals on the living room’s large chandelier to softly clink together. How many minutes of silence passed? Lucien himself didn’t like to be prodded when it came to his emotions- he guessed Azriel was the same.

Mother above...this was uncomfortable.

Deep down Lucien wasn’t sure how he felt about this male. Azriel- dark spymaster to the Night Court. Trusted companion to Rhysand. Friend to Elain...

Oh, Lucien had noticed it immediately. How the two gravitated towards each other. Had forced himself into composure- even as he felt some ancient, animalistic side of him writhing for control. He wouldn’t be like his father in that regard- especially not after Jesminda. He wouldn’t lay claim to something being his just because of the presence of a mating bond. Jesminda had loved him back. Had chosen him. Just as much as he'd chosen her. Was it too much to ask for that again? To wish to be loved, chosen...Elain hadn’t chosen him. At least- not yet. And there was no way of knowing what she would choose.

 _‘Azriel isn’t the ravishing type’_ Rhys had told Lucien when he’d accidentally let slip on that feral part of him. It didn’t matter to Lucien what the shadow singer was or wasn’t. What mattered was the feelings Lucien felt through the bond when Elain was around Azriel. Though he’d never reveal it to anyone that he knew. Never speak of that timid fondness that longed to bloom into something more- Lucien refused to speak of it aloud. Refused to acknowledge the ache it caused in him. Thankfully the pain dulled with distance- but he'd been stupid enough to come back.

Perhaps the pain would go away when a choice had been made. But he couldn’t bring himself to imagine the pain of not being chosen.

**_Azriel_ **

He should have said something minutes ago. Words and phrases lumped together in his throat- he need only make a sound. Lucien’s gaze now held quiet fury- resentment. As if he knew why Azriel had watched him. Why after so long they sat in a room alone- both too stubborn to address it.

Azriel forced a hand onto the arm of his chair. Scarred fingers digging into the too smooth- too perfect velvet. Smooth. Clean. This apartment was polished damn near to perfection. It was filled with reds, oranges, and golds. Giving Azriel the impression of flames and ashes- how appropriate for the Autumn lordling. Lucien clearly had taste, that was obvious. Azriel hadn't so much as selected the color of his bedsheets, not deeming it a necessity. At this point, the only personal touches to his room were the daggers he hid throughout it and the gifts he kept on his nightstand.

Without thinking Azriel rose. But he didn’t move. Lucien was still, calculating before his lips finally quirked into an easy smile.

“That’s all for my briefing then?”

Clear his head. Azriel needed to clear his head- had to get out of here. Why had he revealed himself in the first place? Why had he even come? He hadn’t ever cared about Lucien’s apartment until now. Had been confident that he could offer Elain much more. But it wasn’t that sort of contest. Rhysand’s warning had been crystal clear.

“I’ll join you there in a few days. There isn't much we know. You can brief _me_ when I arrive and we’ll go on from there.” Azriel’s offer rang in the air for several long moments before Lucien nodded and stood. Azriel stuffed his hands into his pockets, eager to avoid a handshake. Avoid showing Lucien his scars.

This meeting was over. Neither male spoke as they slowly made their way up the wrought iron staircase and onto the roof. The sun was setting now. Painting the Sidra to look like a river of liquid gold.

Did they have to be so adversarial? Perhaps that wasn’t something Azriel could decide right now. He had nothing to fear from Lucien. Azriel was confident he could handle his own in a fight. Their only issue…

Azriel shot Lucien a quick goodbye. Winnowing before his mind even knew where it was going. His shadows enveloped him completely, a cocoon of darkness as he took deep breath after deep breath, slowing his heartbeat. The Windhaven camp came into view as he opened his hazel eyes, the unforgivable cold seeping into his bones, hardening his features- bringing up memories he best not think of right now.

Warm light shone through the windows of the cabin, glittering on the bleak snow beneath it. Elain’s scent welcomed him on the threshold as approached and he clasped the handle, the metal bitting into his skin. A heavy hand clamped down on his shoulder, as he turned to meet Cassian's grim smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading- thanks for the support!  
> Have an awesome weekend! See you next Wednesday!  
> 


	10. Weak Excuses

**_Azriel_ **

Azriel watched a sleepy-eyed Cassian raise a fist to the townhouse’s door and knock. They waited a moment before entering, though as usual the door was unlocked. It had simply become protocol since Feyre and Rhys had moved in for anyone in the inner circle to announce their arrival just in case the two were...busy. Since the war, the two had often been ‘busy’ throughout the house. Azriel had been careful to avoid walking in on them, heeding all warnings from his shadows but Cassian _had_ once and Azriel had never seen the general’s face so red. The same red as Cassian’s siphons.

Azriel followed after his brother, trying his best to push past his own exhaustion, making sure to keep from dragging his wings which felt incredibly heavy this morning. It hadn’t been a smart idea for all of them to hang back at the Illyrian cabin so late but it had been fun. Elain and Mor had managed to make a delicious stew, Azriel, who never had a particular enjoyment or interest in food had found himself going back for thirds, polishing the large pot clean with Cassian’s help. 

Everyone seemed eager for a distraction last night. Elain had broached the subject of Nesta with Cassian only for them to quickly agree it was probably best if Elain tried to reason with her sister and Elain alone. Cassian didn’t put up much of a fight despite his usual concern for Nesta. Dealing with the warbands had taken too much out of him for the night. Though most of the trouble makers were slated to participate in the blood rite a few months from now so perhaps things would take care of themselves.

Azriel shook his head to clear the sleep, his stomach leading the rest of him, guided by the smell of coffee wafting in from the dining room. Feyre smiled at them as they entered. Seated at the end of the table as she and Elain shared a pot of tea; a small stack of papers sat before the high lady.

If Elain was tired she hardly looked it. Brown eyes wide and bright flitted over Azriel for just a moment before she turned her attention back to her cup. Azriel found a seat across from Feyre and filled his cup with coffee, letting his eyes drift closed for a moment, savoring the bitter taste and its promises to wake him up.

“Is Rhysie sleeping in?” Cassian claimed a seat beside Azriel, examining the breakfast spread. He smiled broadly as Azriel poured coffee into a mug for him.

“He’s just dropping Lucien off, he’ll be here shortly,” Feyre said without looking up from her report.

Elain stilled, setting down her cup with a sharp clang.

“Off where?”

“The continent?” Feyre’s raised eyebrows were enough indication that she thought this had been common knowledge. So Rhys had briefed her on the test they were putting Lucien through?

Rhys hadn’t exactly been happy when Azriel informed him he’d offered to assist Lucien with gathering intel. Azriel argued that it was a valuable opportunity they couldn’t squander- that any information gathered would aid them if another war were to break out- Azriel mainly just felt guilty about sending Lucien to his doom. The humans had been restless since the wall’s fall. 

“Why is he going to the continent?” Elain’s voice was strained with anger.

As if on cue Rhys winnowed in, likely summoned by Feyre. His darkness and stardust guttering as he felt the tension in the room. He shot an easy smile around the table, kissing his mate on the cheek before sitting down beside her, directly across from Elain.

“Care to explain why Lucien is going to the continent?” Feyre’s tone was diplomatic, that of a high lady used to Rhys’ charming tactics. Rhys nodded smoothly, flicking invisible dust off his shoulder as he answered.

“He left us for the human lands. Now he wants to come back. I just want to make sure we can trust him.” His explanation seemed more directed at Feyre than to Elain. As if she wasn’t owed an explanation at all.

“Why wouldn’t we trust him?” Elain’s voice was sharp, steady. Rhys’ head snapped towards the female. For a moment surprise coated his features.

“Why do you care?”

A cutting question. Azriel felt himself bristling at the accusation laced with it. Why did she care? Because last time she hadn’t even noticed. Last time, during the war with Hybern Lucien, had gone to the continent to search for Vassa and in the weeks during Elain hadn’t so much as asked about him. When he returned she hadn’t so much as looked in his direction. After the winter solstice, she hadn’t even taken his gift for her out of the box- had refused to even sit beside him. But now she wanted them to be friends or at least try and spin some form of normalcy between them. Why?

Elain stood up causing the cups to tremble in their saucers. Azriel forced his face to remain blank as he watched her, features knotted together, eyes glossy.

“Elain-,” Rhys began smoothly.

“It would just- be nice to be informed- to be included. To be told what's going on. I feel as though I’m just a child-,” Azriel felt his heart twisting as her voice broke. As she choked on her words. 

“You’re not a child, Elain,” Feyre said softly.

“ I’m weak- and useless,” she began, cutting herself off with a sharp swallow. Silence filled the room as she discarded her napkin and left. Soft footsteps sounded from the hallway followed by the opening and closing of the door that led to the garden.

Cassian feigned immediate interest in his coffee cup while Feyre and Rhys looked on, clearly speaking through their minds. Azriel ignored them, rising from his chair and swiftly moving into the hallway. 

_ Where are you going? _ Rhys’ voice echoed throughout his mind.

_ To talk to her. _

_ Let Feyre and I- _

_ No, as far as she’s concerned you lied to her... Just let me try. _

There was silence for a few moments. Azriel stalled in front of the garden doors. Warm sunlight seeping through them to warm his chest. His shadows scattered.

_ Don’t make me out to be the villain in all this. _ If it had been meant as a joke his brother’s voice didn’t let on.

_ Of course- I won't.  _

That was that. Azriel gently pushed past the doors, nostrils flooding with a warm spring breeze, mingling with the sweet scents of the garden. Elain stood in front of a pink rose bush, already budding. She straightened as she heard him approaching, back stiffening slightly she briskly brushed a hand over a ruddy, pink cheek. S he had been crying, just a little. Perhaps best not to draw attention to it. Azriel kept his gaze fixed on the rose bush as he felt Elain’s rove over him.

“Did you know?” Her voice was frail.

He couldn’t decide what was worse. That he had known, that he’d lied, that all this upset her so much, or that it seemed like she cared about what happened to Lucien.  Azriel swallowed, weighing his answer carefully.

“I did. I’ll be joining him in a few days.”

“And you’ll be doing what, exactly?”

“Trying to spy on...some of the queens.”

Elain flinched and Azriel planted his feet firmly to avoid going to her.

“Lucien’s done it before. He’s very capable of handling himself-”

“It’s not about Lucien.” Azriel ignored the glimmer of satisfaction that erupted from within. His shadows seemed to dance triumphantly in the shade over it as well.

“Then what is it about?” He allowed himself one step closer. Elain didn’t retreat.

“I’m not like Feyre-”

“You're right, and there’s nothing wrong with that-”

“There is, Azriel,” her voice broke on his name and he felt his chest tighten. “I feel like I’m completely useless- defenseless. I feel so weak! Every little thing hurts or scares me or brings up memories of being in the fucking cauldron!”  Fresh tears ran down her face and Azriel allowed himself another step towards her, forcing his arms to remain at his sides. One more step and he could touch her. Hold her, and perhaps somehow stop her from crying.

“I’m so sick of being weak- of needing protection. I can’t be like Feyre but-” a sob cut her off. She didn’t need to finish. Azriel took a final step and simply took her hand in his, stroking a thumb over the back of it in small circles. Elain sniffled, trying to control her breathing. Long moments passed before Azriel felt a small squeeze from her hand. 

“You don’t have to be like Feyre. You just have to be yourself,” he said softly.

“I don’t know who that is.”

“We’ll figure it out.”

She nodded, her other hand now steady as she wiped the tears from her face.

This explained it then. The lack of control suddenly being replaced by the commands- offering Lucien friendship because it was as much power as Elain thought she had over the situation; trying to use her seering gifts- wanting to train...

“When do you leave?”

“Three days from now.”

She nodded slowly as if that were confirmation for something.

“And when do you return?” She released his hand with a final squeeze.

“Starfall,” two weeks away. Azriel had been gone for longer missions but the timing of this one felt particularly inconvenient. 

“Azriel?” She was now massaging her temples, smoothing out her face. Her graceful features coming through as the tears were brushed away and her skin flushed.

“Yes, Elain?”

“Will you take me to see my father?” 

“Alright.” He turned towards the house, intending to call for a carriage but Elain caught his arm.

“I’d like to fly there.”

Azriel’s brows shot up. Elain didn’t like flying. He’d noticed it long ago. She seemed like she was afraid of it. 

"Alright." He nodded slowly, opening his arms for her. She wiped at her cheek once more before she stepped into them and hooked her arms around his neck.  Why did she want to fly there? Her honey-jasmine scent distracted him and Azriel focused his eyes on the rose bush beside them, lifting her gingerly into his arms before shooting into the sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UPDATE:  
> So my original upload schedule has been on Wednesdays but it's getting a little harder to meet. It's going to be an upload at least once a week with an unspecified day! Wednesdays have just become sort of busy for me! You'll still be getting at least one chapter a week though!  
> My goal for March was to hit fifteen chapters so you'll at least get another five this month!
> 
> ANYWAY-  
> Thanks so much as always for reading and all the great comments. Your love and support for the fic really keep me motivated to write it.   
> I hope you enjoyed it and I hope you have a good week!


	11. Distractions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elain shut her eyes tightly as the wind whipped around them, ruffling her skirts and biting at her skin. She tried to focus on Azriel’s breathing, on his scent, eventually forcing herself to focus on his face. Anything but looking down below.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may have noticed the fic's title has changed. I think this just fits better and helps it stand out more. That's all- hope you like it!
> 
> Slight ACOSF chapter 8 spoiler in this one. Just an anecdote that I repurposed but totally get if you gotta pass until you've read it.

**_Elain_ **

Elain shut her eyes tightly as the wind whipped around them, ruffling her skirts and biting at her skin. She tried to focus on Azriel’s breathing, on his scent, eventually forcing herself to focus on his face. Anything but looking down below. 

His features knit with concern as his powerful wings shifted to catch the wind current that would lead them far out from the city. To the look-out point where her father’s grave waited. She looked hard, studying the hazel eyes as they caught the light, the black hair with streaks of blue sweeping across his golden-brown skin. Studying his as Feyre might when painting a subject, trying to capture its exact likeness.

“Elain,” he murmured, and she realized she’d been staring. That her gaze must have pried into him enough to make him uncomfortable.

“I know you don’t like flying but,” she felt him tighten his arms around her in emphasis, “I promise I won’t drop you.” He gave her a careful smile but she couldn’t return it. She sealed her eyes shut as she caught an accidental glance of the rainbow, how small it all looked from here. “How do you get up to the house of wind on your own?” She heard a small sniff, a small laugh she realized as Azriel answered his own question. “That’s an awful lot of stairs.”

Eyes still squeezed shut she shrugged. “It’s not so bad. It’s the only exercise I get.” Why had she asked him to fly her? She hated it. She knew it was just a natural part of living in Velaris, a true asset if she looked at it really- but it damn near terrified her. If she couldn’t get used to flying then she’d have to learn to winnow, if the scraps of power left in her would even allow it.

“You know-as children my brothers and I were made to climb up and down those stairs as punishment.” Her ear tickled as he spoke into it, making sure she heard every word of his story. She cracked an eye open and kept it on him in silent encouragement to continue. “It had been the middle of summer and we had all been covered in sweat when on the way down, Cassian got sick...all over me.” His lips curved in a small smile as he watched Elain make a face before he continued.

“I was so disgusted I got sick all over Rhys who then threw up all over the stairs. By the time we were finished we all reeked of sick and Rhys’ father made us hike back down and spend the rest of the night cleaning it all up.”

Despite the vivid images that filled Elain’s head of the three Illyrian males a rich laugh slipped from her lips. Azriel joined her and for a moment the wind ripping at her clothes and hair didn’t bother her. She felt Azriel steady himself, bending his knees and slowly flapping his wings as his feet made contact with solid ground, Elain’s meeting the same grass moments later.

She stepped out of his embrace, eyes roving over the small strip of land before them, a small stone gravestone sat at the cliff’s edge. She let her feet guide her, walking the path she so often had. Azriel hung back, still as death. She ran a hand over the smooth stone when she reached it, realizing only now she had forgotten to bring flowers.

She racked her brain for something to share with him. For any news. A prayer- for help with Nesta- a baby for Feyre. Guidance for herself. Elain’s father had met Lucien. What had he thought of the male? What conversations had they shared if there had even been time for them to have one? Her father hadn’t met anyone in their new family. Not Rhysand or Cassian or Azriel. It made Elain feel as if there were two versions of her and one had been scattered to the wind the day he died. Though...there were two versions of her. Two lives. The one that had ended when she was pushed beneath the cauldron’s waters and the one that began when she emerged. 

Elain found herself kneeling into the grass, still dewy from this morning. She closed her eyes as she softly did when visiting him, resting a hand against the stone. Sea salt filled her lungs and gulls cried in the distance as waves crashed against the shores in a peaceful symphony. 

Mind going calm and empty she embraced the serenity. The sound of life around her. It felt as if a door were opening in her mind, beckoning her to look inside, its carvings indistinguishable in the haziness of her mind as it moved silently on its hinges. Blackness opened before her and then vines. Vines everywhere. Stretching up, across, around her but never tightening. Elain felt the urge to scream but no sound came out as she saw a room. Tastefully decorated but covered in vines. As if forgotten in time- nature was reclaiming itself. 

Calloused hands grabbed at her shoulders. She felt their heaviness through the fabric of her gown. She opened her eyes as she heard the crashing of waves below. Azriel was behind her, shaking her. Elain turned slowly to meet his gaze, as wide-eyed as hers. Neither of them spoke. It was clear. She had just used her gifts again.

**_Lucien_ **

Cracked a branch over his knee, sighing at the sharp noise as the wood splintered between his hands before throwing it into the small pit he had dug out. The setting sun shimmered across the lake before him as it slowly disappeared behind the trees. It was warmer on the continent. A sure sign that summer would come earlier than it would in the solar courts across the sea. 

He pushed away his thoughts of home as he broke a final branch, tossing it in with the rest, and knelt before his pile. Raising a tanned hand towards it, he welcomed the heat that pooled there, ebbing out in small tongues of flame as he drew it across the pile of wood. After a few moments, his fire clung to them, feeding on the branches as it spread, emitting a crackling noise that always managed to relax Lucien. The sounds of a crackling fire had always had the ability to lull him to sleep.

He stepped back, examining the fish he had caught from the lake before him, not half an hour ago. Fat salmon thrived in this lake, undisturbed as few seemed to have traveled this far out. Exactly why Lucien hadn’t spotted a damn thing all day.

Lucien cleaned his catch briskly, eager to eat and be off to bed, ready to count his losses for the day. Rhysand had been all too clear he was expected to bring back news, intel answers- something or there would be issues. Lucien had two weeks until Starfall, some night court holiday Lucien had yet to attend, to come back with information that would gain their trust again. 

Pulling a pan from the small pack he had brought Lucien tossed his catch into it to cook on the fire, eyeing the meat as it immediately began to sizzle. He didn’t feel hungry but it wouldn’t be smart to miss a meal out here. There was no telling when he’d be forced to hold his position or for how long. If he saw no signs of Braillyn or her forces.

Lucien barely remembered what the queen had looked like in Hybern. His only real lead was that Rhys had shared an image of her crest this morning and that would only help Lucien identify her guards. He hadn’t seen a soul all day.

Twilight fell and Lucien ate in silence. Silence, the only company he kept. He found himself wishing the next two days to move quickly so he’d at least have Azriel to join him. A notoriously silent male. Mother damn him...

Having finished his meal and washed the pan Lucien had run out of things to do. Sleep would be the best thing to pass the time, perhaps an early start in the morning, he could go back towards the trail, towards some form of civilization, and scout around there.

Lucien leaned back onto his bedroll, making sure the flames in his fire had died and his glamor surrounded him, easily blending him into his surroundings. Stars had begun to creep across the sky in dull smatterings, a poor imitation of the radiant night sky at the Night Court.

He stirred, shutting his eyes to coax his body into sleeping but it did no good. All this time alone had just given his mind free rein to wander. And as his thoughts often did they turned to Elain. Not out of need or loneliness as they often did for any male, just of Elain herself, doing nothing in particular- not saying anything, not even accepting or rejecting him like the hundreds of times he’d envisioned her doing. Just Elain being herself. Her brown eyes. What did Elain want? He’d asked her that outright a few times now- she hadn’t been able to give Lucien an answer. Perhaps because she was still spiraling from the past summer the war- having everything so cleanly ripped from her grasp. They were all still healing in their own ways, Lucien thought. From the war, from Amarantha, from life.

Something splashed across the lake. Lucien slowly raised himself onto his elbows to look, willing the fear to freeze within his veins as he surveyed the scene, checking for scents or soldiers, or the black and white of Braillyn’s flags.

A fawn and her young lapped at the edges of the lake before him, the young had jumped in, splashing around freely as its mother calmly looked on. Lucien shifted his body, resting a head on an arm as he watched them drink in peaceful silence. Mother above...it was going to be a long two days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks for reading!  
> Just in case you haven't noticed, I've changed the update schedule. No longer exclusively uploading on Wednesday (though was I really ever?), will now be doing a chapter a week and maybe more? I dunno. I have too much time on my hands right now and tbh hopefully that changes?  
> Anyway, I hope you have a good weekend!


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